Tears of the North
by CollaborationofAwesomeness
Summary: Torn by differing ideals, the formerly united Nordic Five enters a bloody civil war. Rated T for slight gore, suicide, and character death, "Bloody Civil War." Human names used. Probably Permanent Hiatus, sorry y'all.
1. Relatives at War

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, I wouldn't be eating pizza pockets for breakfast.

* * *

Peter didn't want this. Uncle Mathias got power hungry and started attacking his own family. _Their_ own family. Not like that was the only surprise. The fact that it was _Uncle Mathias_ that got power hungry, that was the big one. Uncle Mathias was the joker, the friend, the one who let him do crazy, dangerous, and awesome things. Like trying that _Brewmeister_ _Snake Venom!_ Who knew the world could spin that fast?! He was only allowed a sip though. According to Tino, beer was for the "overaged," whatever that meant. Peter began to sniffle, the good memories only made the recent ones hurt more. After Mathias shared his plan for world domination, the Nordic's lives drastically changed. They started drifting apart and yelling at each other more often. He thought their family bonds were indestructible, but they snapped quickly, terrifyingly quickly.

* * *

" _Just let me do this! Please, Berwald!" Mathias cried._

 _Scowling, Berwald tried to hold back Mathias. "You can't. This will tear us all apart!" Berwald said while Mathias desperately lunged to get out of Berwald's grip._

" _Berwald's right! This is so crazy Mathias!" shouted Emil._

" _What makes you think you're right? You're what? Ten?" Lukas retorted pointing at Emil._

" _Hey! We can't be fighting against each other! We're a family, all of us!" said Tino desperately._

 _Peter watched from a distance as his family fought. 'This can't be happening. Everything will be fine.' He told himself._

* * *

Hah! Yeah right, I'm in a jail cell. Yep, totally fine. Looking up from where he sat, Peter shrunk back at the sight of Mathias. Uncle was caked in dry blood. Peter's stomach turns at the observation. Whose was it? Was it Berwald's, who valiantly opposed Mathias from the beginning? Watching with frightened eyes, he studied Mathias's grim expression. Eventually, Peter tore his gaze from Mathias. Eyes returning to flick over the bland cell wall. 1,2,3,4,...10 blocks wide. Wow, he was resorting to counting bricks. So, his family, _enemies,_ they were enemies now,were using the worst torture of all, boredom! Flicking past the ceiling, his eyes began roving around the cell-no window-while he starts absentmindedly rubbing the bruise on his ankle. It was a pitiful attempt to destroy the door. _tap, tap, tap._ Peter looks up, then back down when Mathias stops in front of his cell. Mathias silently shoves a small plate of-that was _not_ food- _something_ under the bar doors.

"Here, some food before we leave," Mathias says in a bored tone. Then, turns to walk away.

"You wish it was food. Actually, you wish I would go anywhere with the likes of you! Where are would you take me anyway?" Peter yells, balling his fists defiantly.

"Battle." Mathias twists to face him.

"Against my family? Never!"

"Wow, you must really think I'm stupid. Ouch. Obviously, you're not going, you'd run to the other side."

Hearing footsteps, Peter peers around Mathias's side. He sees the other tall nation and glares fiercely. Trying to show them his anger. Trying to not be helpless.

"What are you looking at?" Lukas said, his monotone tinged with annoyance.

"Family. Or at least, I thought I was, Uncle!" Peter spits the title out like poison.

"Lukas! Fetch _him_ , prepare for battle, and let's go!" Mathias's command echoes loudly in the damp room.

Blankly nodding, Lukas and Mathias begin to exit the dungeons.

"My mama and papa are going to rescue me soon! _Your_ brother will rescue me! And they will hate you for what you've done. You betrayed them! You betrayed me! We were family! And you tossed our love like it was nothing." Peter shouts angrily.

Laughing Mathias says, "Please, don't be so deluded. I didn't betray our family. Our family refused glory. I was actually quite hurt, don't they trust me to lead us all into a new future?"

"How dare you? How dare you say we're family?! Your "future" will be built on corpses of _my_ family! You are not family!"

"How dare I? How dare you? They're not even your family! The only reason you're part of this family is because Tino and Berwald adopted you out of pity for Arthur Kirkland! How dare you and my family? If they would just _trust_ me, if they wouldn't fight against me, this would never happen! I would never be _forced_ to harm them!"

"That's your twisted logic? They're choosing to fight for what they believe in, even if it's against family, and because of that, you're "forced" to fight them! You always made me laugh when I lost hope or were just feeling sad. It was hard for me too Uncle! _Uncles!_ " Peter cried, trying to appeal to Lukas.

"Twisted logic? By _your_ logic, I'm in essentially doing the same thing as our vaunted family-and, by the way, I'm really touched by my re-admittance in the club. But, as you said, they always viewed me as the class clown, the joker, which is exactly why they don't trust me to rule! Ah, the fate of the underdogs. Now, it's time to get ready for battle."

"Uncle Lukas, please..." Peter cries, turning to the other man.

"As you said, we fight for our beliefs, even if it tears us apart."

Mathias and Lukas promptly left, stoically ignoring the sobs of their nephew. Peter looks blankly down at the cold floor, tears flooding his eyes.

"You will find me, won't you mama and papa? You'll fix us. Put things back...back to _normal!_ " he begs quietly.

* * *

Absentmindedly, Mathias prepares his weapons for battle. He was about to go to battle against his family. Should he do this? He wished he could have avoided this, but every single day innocent people _died._ He could fix it. But his own family wouldn't even give him a chance. And they were all going to kill each other because of it. How can you measure the countless ones he could save versus the lives of his own family? This battle will have no winners. Cries of death echoed in his mind. Why did blood always come before reform?

"They ignore a revolution. Despite how hard this is, it's for the greater good. Our power means we have to make terrible choices. Ones that benefit the most people, even at the sacrifice of a few, even at the sacrifice of our family." Lukas said, coming up behind Mathias.

"Yeah, don't let regrets kill you, they decided to fight us. If they couldn't even trust _family,_ they aren't family. They wouldn't even give us a chance. It was their choice." Mathias's other ally said.

"Alright, alright! I'm not weak! I believe in what we're doing and I don't need your pity!" Mathias retorts angrily, while lifted his ax over his shoulder.

"Don't forget your rifle, because if you forget it, and need it, I'm not coming to save you." Lukas comments dryly.

Mathias snorts. "Wow, I feel the love, you guys." Silently, he thought, "Look at us laughing!" The age old dance of masking pain and grief with humor, no one wins when families are torn apart. And with that, they head into battle to help tear their own family apart.


	2. Breaking Bonds

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Proof? I don't speak Japanese.

* * *

Three cloaked figures briskly stride onto their army base. Dry winds bite their faces, they are surrounded icy wastelands and the hollow absence of life echoes in the vast space. Mathias inhales a crisp breeze, ignoring the sting on his lips.

"General Khøler! What are your orders for battle?" Asks a lieutenant after a quick salute.

"Take 4 troops to the right line, 4 troops to the left side, and I want 5 troops to the front line." Commands Mathias. Saluting again, the soldier snaps a hurried "Sir," and rushes to communicate the orders.

"So, who gets to take Berwald?" asked Mathias's other ally.

"You are," replies Lukas instantly.

"How many hidden troops do you guys think we should have and where?" Mathias asks, pointing to the map on a creaky table.

Studying the map, Lukas says, "We only need one troop to take the back rank. Keep them hidden until we give the signal. We need air back up though...what about two bombers? Remember don't overstock them with bombs, we can't use up all of resources in this battle. This war won't be a single battle. Blood shall run like rivers. Tears shall flow like rain. Revolution shall be brought with sorrow."

Mathias nods in agreement and starts sketching troop formations.

"Why did you put a crown, a troll, and a rifle where we are?" Lukas wonders, fearing he knows the answer.

"That's us!" Mathias exclaims happily. Lukas face-palms.

"Don't do it. No. Just no. For clarification, "no" as in: the amount of artistic talent you have!" Mathias's other ally groans.

"But it's symbolic...and metaphorical!"

Ignoring the losing verbal battle, Lukas examines the east portion of the map. The other army, their family, was camping there.

"Soon, the Revolution shall truly begin!" Lukas announces solemnly.

* * *

Candlelight leaps free from the confining lantern and dances on the flimsy tent walls. Two men hover over a table, gazing at a map. Their postures are hunched with tiredness and deep sorrow.

"I don't like fighting against Mathias and Lukas. Looks like the only positive is that Tino said he would be neutral. We don't need more family fighting each other. Blood spilled by kin is a horrible crime. None are innocent in this conflict." Berwald sigh sadly.

"Yeah, I absolutely _love_ the idea of killing our family." Emil drawled, wielding cool sarcasm to shield him from the pain.

"This is no time for jokes. Or masks." Berwald orders with stern sympathy. And, for a brief moment, his eyes ache with sadness. No one should ever have to face family in battle.

"Fine! You want masks off? We shouldn't be feeling guilty. We _aren't_ guilty. Mathias started this stupid war and Lukas joined him in a show of total incompetence! Worse, they're off being evil! They _kidnapped_ Peter! He was 12! He is now a prisoner of war! _Their_ prisoner of war! They took our family and probably threw him in a jail cell. Maybe even tortured him! And why?! Because Mathias is a power hungry viper that _stole_ our trust and wants to take over the world!" Emil's face was blotchy red and he panted with exertion. After releasing his anger, he looked so _small._

"Betrayal is the worst poison. The worst instigator of anger. Jealously is powerful, yes, but true righteous anger? That is so easily justifiable. So easy for that hate to simmer to turn into black toxin. And even when that hate is black and venomous, you see it as white, as right, as pure because that's how it began. Don't let your hate blind you. Family is still family and family fights."

"Hah, this is war, not a squabble at the dinner table. He stole _my trust!"_

"As he did mine, but I still love them. Even as I fight them, my heart breaks a little more. But I believe they should be stopped and beliefs are what make you _you._ Beliefs and ideals? They're thicker than blood. They're..."

"A loyalty who you are. A loyalty to your self-identity...yeah, yeah, yeah... I kind of understand, but _forgiveness?_ That's gonna be a lot harder." Emil tries to wryly comment, hiding the sniffling by picking up his spear and polishing it.

"You'll figure it out. But, just...just try to understand. Mathias has always wanted to make people happy. And the fact that he _knows_ he has the power to change things and help. Well, he wants to do it. I agree with him there."

"Hey, that sounds like this movie Alfred made me watch once. It said something like, 'With great power, comes great responsibility.'" Emil interjects, looking a little better.

"Yes, a piece of wisdom I totally support. But with Mathias, he isn't giving people a choice. He will force people to be perfect. He's trying to take over the world and make it better _his_ way. He thinks with absolute power he can fix things. But, absolute power corrupts even the best of us. So, tomorrow, when we're all trying to kill each other, please, _please_ remember he wants to do what's right. He's just blinded. We all get that way sometimes."

"That's going to make fighting him hard though. And it doesn't excuse what he's done!"

"No. Good intentions don't excuse wrong actions. But, I can tell you're getting bored, so enough of this philosophical talk. By the way, bring a hand pistol as well, just in case," Berwald recommends, turning back to the map and putting pins to mark his troops.

"Sure. And, Berwald? Thanks." Emil answers and gets up choose one.

Watching Emil walk away, Berwald feels a surge of pain. Family against family. Child against child. Beliefs against beliefs. Who would fall tomorrow? Which family member would he kill? Whose blood, blood he shared, would stain his soul? _Tomorrow...tomorrow...tomorrow..._ The word chants in his head.

 _Tomorrow...people will die._

 _Tomorrow...people will find new ghosts._

 _Tomorrow...people will never forget._

* * *

The sun casts bright rays on the icy snow. It turns the frigid, hard landscape into something truly miraculous. The white snow mocks Mathias. It would not be so clean by night, How pitiful, that even the land's innocence was stolen. Shaking his head, Mathias gathers his troops and heads off into battle. No regrets. No mistakes. No philosophical thoughts. Just try to save all his people. All the ones that could die following him.

Soon enough, Mathias spies Berwald and Emil. No, not Berwald and Emil, the _enemy_ army. With his two trusted allies shadowing him, they prepare to try diplomacy one more time. Maybe there was hope for peace. Maybe all could survive with their purity. Maybe his family would choose to trust him. Maybe they could all revolutionize the world together. Maybe the Nordic family would bring world peace. But, if not, Mathias planned to win...at all costs.

The nations met just four feet and an ocean of different ideals apart. All of them bore determined looks. No one felt like losing. Stepping forward first, Mathias smiles, but everyone sees his hard look before his trademark cheerful grin slips on his face.

"Hello, my dear family. Guess what?! I brought Christmas presents! That's right, I'm gong to give you another chance! Surrender and be part of New Scandinavia, or resist us knowing that you've condemned the entire family to a life of Civil War and bloodshed! You know many lives will be lost today, Berwald. You could save them or you could sacrifice all these poor, poor men that trust you so blindly. It's your choice!" Mathias says, waggling his finger at Berwald.

"Do _not_ treat this lightly! I will _not_ allow it! Don't hide behind this cheerful façade brother. Surely, even you feel the horrible weight of what you're saying. Please, this is chance to work it out. Can't we compromise?" Berwald pleads desperately. His face is etched with anguish. His family is torn apart by hatred.

"Compromise? Berwald, please, look at how he just treated us! He doesn't care about our lives! Worst, he's pushing the blame on _us!_ Uh, whose the one who wanted to take over the world and subvert all our friends to your tyranny?!" Emil interrupts, face burning with raw, unadulterated rage.

"I love you too baby brother!" Mathias then turned to Berwald. "But, seriously Berwald, you really hurt me." Mathias' voice turns as cold as their surroundings. "'Even _I..._ ' Hah, you never trusted me. I was always the joker who couldn't take things seriously. You don't even think I feel the sharp pain of death! That's why I'm doing this. I can make the world _right_. I can _stop_ needless deaths."

"Yeah, by declaring war on us!" Emil shouts, eyes blazing angrily.

" _We_ can stop the deaths. Together again, as a family. Just surrender and stop this." Mathias continues.

"But _I_ am not willing to enslave the world to save it. People should have the freedom of choice. The day I surrender to you is the day I die!" Berwald steps towards Mathias, raising his staff with a rifle on his shoulder.

"That can be easily arranged. Would you like a cell next to dear Peter? I'm sure he would feel better pleading for his papa to rescue him if you were closer. In fact, you could even exchange screams during torture hour," Mathias coldly says.

"You are a despicable person! I thought we were brothers!" Berwald charges at Mathias, surprisingly being held back by Emil.

"Now, now, such a temper. That's not even the big surprise. Let's make this Civil War official. Lukas! Tell him to unmask!"

"Him? Who's 'him'? Got another mindless attack dog?" Confusion and dread laces Emil's voice betraying his bravado.

Behind Mathias, the third figure removes their mask revealing Tino Väinämöinen.

"You said wouldn't fight against your family! You _promised._ " Berwald cries heart-brokenly.

"Yes, I did. But, you _are not_ family. Family trusts each other. You didn't trust Mathias. You wouldn't even listen to his full plan. You even made everyone else feel stupid for considering it. For trusting _family._ 'You can't. This will tear us all apart!' That's what you said to Mathias. And yet, your stubbornness and your paranoia tore us apart! You are the problem!" Tino yells, her word barbed to pierce.

"You can't stop progress. You're only hurting everyone." Lukas adds, his stern face flashes with hurt.

" _We're_ hurting everyone?! Hah, you're the traitors! You are not my big brothers! You are not family." Emil glares intensely at Lukas and Tino.

"Funny, that's similar to what Peter said yesterday. How odd." Lukas comments blankly.

"You monsters! I'll..."

"Fine, I'm sorry it had to be this way, but...if you won't surrender, you have chosen battle." Mathias raises his axe.

Two sharp clicks ring as Berwald and Emil nock their guns.

"OPEN FIRE!" Mathias screams, while Berwald shouts "Sprid ut och öppen eld!" With those two commands, utter chaos began it's apathetic reign and family bonds scream as they break.

* * *

 **Translation:** **Swedish: Sprid ut och öppen** **eld. Spread out and open fire.**


	3. Purity Destroyed

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia...unless the current owner has died and I'm the long lost heir. So...yeah, don't own Hetalia.

* * *

"Tino! Remember your target. Get Berwald and this all ends. Lukas, you're with me!" Mathias signals. Dashing around, Mathias searches for Emil. A flash of silvery platinum caught his eyes.

 _'Where was it? Where was it? Was it just ice? Wait!, the right! There! Battling with one of his soldiers. But, other than that, all alone. Great! An easy target!'_ thinks Mathias.

"Blocking maneuver!" Mathias barks.

Instantly, his soldier-Parks?-and Lukas join him, forcing Emil behind a crude ice pillar and cornering him. Suddenly, Lukas lunges forward, thrusting a feint towards Emil.

"Oh, that's not fair!" Emil exclaims, blocking Lukas's feint with his spear.

Mathias swung his ax at Emil, who quickly rolls out of the way. "Dude, this is war! But, maybe you'll get lucky and Heaven's got some cheese with that whine."

"Haha! See? This is exactly why you shouldn't rule the world. You can't stop joking! Is that it? Is this all one big prank to you, spilling the blood of our family? Svikarar!" Face twisted with rage, Emil bolts to the right to avoid the deadly steel of Mathias' battle ax. He slides to avoid a shot from Lukas and rolls into a crouch. Raising his pistol, Emil fires back, narrowly missing.

 _"That. Was. Awful. He must not react well under pressure. We are literally surrounding him and he misses! But...nerves. I should use them! And that insolent comment can't go unpunished!"_

"Tsk, don't waste your bullets. I thought I taught you better than that. Remember all those jolly times at the shooting range? You know what? Lukas, this isn't fun for you, the skill level is dreadfully unbalanced. I'd hardly want you to be bored, why don't you-" he drop rolls to avoid a bullet-"Ooh, better, Emil. Anyways, why don't you go find fun _elsewhere?_ " Mathias taunts, while watching Lukas silently nod and disappear.

 _"Talk. Thrust. Talk. Make him drop the gun. He has a long range weapon, you don't. Keep talking too. Distractions at all costs."_ Mathias watches Emil slide aways from his thrust and hurl a spear towards Mathias' soldier.

 _"Yes! It's working. That spear should have pierced his heart. Emil's nervous!"_ Mathias swung again, pushing away the wayward thought of, " _Where did he get a spear?"_ Spotting something behind him, he turns slightly, sighing with relief when he sees his unnamed soldier crept around to fire. _"Good man."_

"Though, I'll admit. You're doing pretty well holding us back on your own. Sadly, not well enough," Mathias tsks, slashing his ax down mightily. " _Aim for his leg."_

Emil trips, twisting his ankle and falling on his back. Desperately, struggling to stand to his feet. Suddenly, he felt a stabbing pain in his arm. He cried out, trying to reach his spear that had fallen to the ground. Mathias gazes down at the bleeding teenager, his enemy. " _Little brother," whispers his conscience._ No, Emil is the enemy. Mathias is sure. Then, he utters two words. "You lost..."

* * *

Berwald weaves through the fighting soldiers yelling commands. Normally, he'd be on the front lines, but this wasn't an ordinary battle. If they could take out his family-that felt so _wrong,_ so _vile-_ the war would stop. The humans, his followers, his friends, they could all survive. They wouldn't spill their blood for him. Their families would rejoice.

" _Focus. Focus. First, end this."_ His mind chimes.

Berwald pauses. It was a mistake, no one pauses in war. A saber nearly skewers him, but he blocks it with his staff. The iron glints in the sun. Such beauty among such war.

"I really am dreadfully sorry." Berwald shrugs apologetically before slamming the butt of his staff against the soldiers head. _Clang!_ The sound reverberated through the air. Although it was quickly lost among tumultuous battle, an echo rang in Berwald's hollow heart.

 _"Those soldiers... Why were they following Mathias? Promises of glory? Trust in him to wield absolute power? Or...were they deceived? No! Please, no! Don't let them die believing in a lie."_ Berwald's thoughts race, running faster and faster, until...

 _"_ Lukas. There you are." He whispers triumphantly.

* * *

 _"Plans. Stick to the plans. You know the plans."_ Lukas repeats, a mantra in his mind. " _What was the first step? Oh yeah, make yourself invisible. Run towards the middle of the battle."_ Plans were reliable. Plans kept people safe. Plans would keep him, and, more importantly-the revolution. The revolution was critical. It would change _everything._ " _What of the cost?"_ his mind reminds him. The cost...his family.

 _"No! All around...the smell of blood...the oppressive aura of death...the screams of pain...cries of, "Just do it!" Soldiers sacrificing their lives.-Ah, falling corpse! One of Berwald's.- For both sides. And not just here, so many people died in pain everyday. So many people were wronged. So many people were hurt.-dodge, duck, don't worry about jostling, no one will stop, make it to the center- If Mathias ruled, if the rest of them-who will be left?-ruled together, they would stop this. They could bring happiness and peace. I can't deny the world that.-keep the invisibility up, focus!- They may just be humans, with lives as fragile and fleeting as a butterfly, but they're people. I can't selfishly hang on to my family and let everyone else just die in misery.-the center!- I won't! I can't...I can't focus on this right now. I'm such a failure. Magic needs focus. I need to focus."_

Thrusting both hands into the air, Lukas weaves the magic around him. He felt so alive. Magic was imbued everywhere. Focusing his mind with a single goal, he reaches out and creates an illusion of blinding light, blinding the fighting soldiers temporarily. Then, he feels...nothing.

Wearing specialized glasses that left him unfazed by the light blast, which was suspiciously short, Tino weaves between fighting soldiers. Screams rattle the air, as soldiers are slaughtered. Their dead bodies surround him at every side. Their glazed eyes are accusing. Hear them screech, "Your fault! Stop this! Save us!" The smell of blood already drowns the air. Shaking his head to stop the ringing accusations, he looks for Berwald.

 _"Berwald, the name brought an enraged snarl. It was Berwald's fault! Berwald wouldn't trust his own family to do the right thing! Worst of all,_ _He poisoned Peter against Mathias' side. Tino adored Peter."_

* * *

 _"Merry Christmas! Ho! Ho! Ho! I'm finally back, guys!"_

 _"Mama Tino! Mama Tino!" Peter shouted, an expression of pure joy and love on his face._

 _"I wouldn't be a mama... You know what? I give up, you'll get it when you're older...I hope..." Tino replies, muttering the last part._

 _"Anyways! Look what I brought you! I had my reindeers fly extra fast so I could finish the deliveries before your bedtime!"_

 _"Is that why they all look so dead?!"_

 _"Err... They're just sleeping. They kept eating all the cookies and drinking all the milk."_

 _"They're okay, right? They're not hurt? Are there animal labor laws, you won't get arrested, right Mama?" Peter's face shone with innocence._

 _"Well...Oh, look a whole bag of presents just for you! Why don't you see if you got what you wanted?"_

 _"YAY!" Peter literally jumped into the large bags of presents, finding the ones at the very bottom and opening them first. Tino just watched happily. What a smart kid! And drifted off to sleep. Warmed not by the impressively insulated fat-suit he wore, but by the child he loved._

* * *

"He _hates_ me now...or will once he finds out... All because of Berwald and his complete distrust! He disowns us by such a vulgar display of suspicion and then, attacks us! Once I find him I will..." Shaken out of muttering, Tino glances up once more. Yes! It was Berwald the traitor! Great! Separated from Emil. Perfect! Wait! Was that Lukas at Berwald's feet? How dare he?!

"Berwald!" Tino shouts, as the Swedish man's face jerks up, disfiguring into a mask of pure hate.

"You," Berwald growls angrily.

"No, it's Santa Claus." Tino says, swinging his metal staff at Berwald. Dodging agily, Berwald swings his identical staff at Tino. As it slashes towards Tino's neck, it whistles through the air. "Hear the signal of your death!" Berwald roars.

 _Clang!_

Metal met metal in a ringing clash. Around them, the soldiers stopped fighting, both sides trained to recognize when they would no longer affect the tide of battle.

"And, yet. I'm still alive. How pathetic. You'd think when traitors would actually have skill before betraying those that are _clearly_ superior. How...foolish." Tino sneers.

Swiftly flipping his metal staff into its holster. Tino drew his sniper riffle, rolling under a kick, and crouching in position. and whipped out his sniper rifle. Berwald face began to pale rapidly.

" _Ha, you don't have a long range weapon! Since you didn't plan for me, you likely haven't prepared for one either!"_ Tino crows inwardly while firing his gun.

In front of him, Berwald leaps into action, trying to dodge behind a glacier. Behind them, the group of soldiers warily retreats. In mid-leap, a bullet pierces Berwald's arm. Gasping in pain, he dropped his staff. Tino grins in satisfaction, switching back to his staff.

"Aw...you lost your weapon. How sad... How clumsy... Didn't anyone ever teach situational awareness?" While goading him, Tino slowly approaches Berwald. He swings the staff.

"Oomph!" The air fled from Berwald's stomach, like it was leaping to freedom.

Watching Berwald double over, Tino continues the fight by smacking the butt of his rifle against Berwald's head. Crimson, sticky blood gushes out, staining the snow. Tino plans to enjoy this. No one turns Peter against him.

"Why! Did! You! Make! Him! Hate! Me!"A strike emphasizes each angry word.

"What? Jealous?" Berwald weakly asks, coughing up blood.

"Me? What about you? You convinced him to hate anyone with Mathias. That's me!"

"I _thought_ you were neutral."

"And I _thought_ you were family."

"I wouldn't to that to him. He loves both of us! It would tear him apart!"

"Your lies are pitiful. You were always slow thinking," spits Tino, standing over Berwald's bloody form.

"Perhaps, but that's never kept me from fighting!" Berwald whispers while clutching his head. His face is a grimace of pain, but he grabs his staff, swinging it at Tino's leg.

 _Snap!_ The crack of broken bones filled the air with a moment of loud silence. Before it was broken by Tino's shrieks of agony, falling to the ground.

Despite the pain, Tino rolls, barely dodging Berwald's follow-up attack.

 _"I can't stand! I can't stand!"_ Tino's mind thrums with pain. Trying to retaliate, he swings the back of his gun at Berwald, who easily sidesteps. Then...

 _Pain._

 _Then..._

 _Darkness._

Swedish staff say hello to Finnish flesh.

* * *

Dizzy with victory and blood loss, Berwald barely notices the first screams. But, the voice echoes within his brain, pushing through the gushing blood, and igniting recognition. Berwald swivels his head quickly. It was Emil. Fists clenching, he watches as Mathias prance haughtily before Emil, who was lying limp, with his arm gushing blood.

"You fool. Always weak. Always depending on Lukas to save you. But, he choose me over you. Did he get tired of babysitting?" Mathias says slowly, obviously savoring the words. Then, Mathias fires his rifle, shooting Emil twice in the leg. Clutching his bleeding limb, Emil screams in pain. Running over, Berwald scoops Emil into his arms as Mathias watches with a cheery smile.

"Well, that was fun! But, you lost! Too bad, that. I'll see you again, I'm sure, but lick your wounds for now." Mathias' says voice dropping from a cheerful babble to a cold, vicious tone.

Suspecting a trap, Berwald scans the land.

"Actually, we'll call this a draw. Tino and Lukas are out of commission. I really wouldn't like to chance a fight with you though and I'm sure you'd rather not put dear Emil at risk. He'll die from blood loss, you know. Actually, the fact that you're still standing despite the multiple wounds is exactly why I'm not fighting you. Your rage would not let me win, not today. So, cool down, it is the

Feeling appeased, Berwald shouts "reträtt!" Soon, his troops begin the march eastward.

* * *

Mathias draws his own armies back, while watching the Swedish and Icelandic armies retreat into small dots against the horizon. Tomorrow, the sun will rise again as a yellow orb. But, all those that survived this battle? _They_ will see the sun as red. This battle has permanently embedded other's blood in their eyes and souls. The once beautiful icy wasteland has corpses littering it, blood dyes the snow, and death has marked the air. It rings with the echoes of the fallen.

The war just began today.

How many more shall pay for it's end?

* * *

 **Translation:**

 **Icelandic- Svikarar: Traitor (What Emil calls Mathias in the first scene)**

 **Swedish- Reträtt: Retreat (Berwald's orders)**


	4. Betrayal and Loyalty

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I haven't even watched an episode.

* * *

Shadows loom in the corners of the tent, their presence creating such a foreboding atmosphere that even the frolicking candlelight stilled. The gloomy silence is occasionally marred by grunts of pain. A pale body lies on a table, looking quite dead. Despite its outer appearance, inside the body, thoughts race around frantically.

" _Should I? Berwald nearly lost the first battle. It's the best choice, but...do I believe in it? Democracy. Much better than tyranny. And Lukas…we were brothers. I've lost so much. I can't lose this war. I won't lose it!"_ Emil'sthoughts slow as he makes a firm resolution.

"Mr. Steilsson? Are you ok? I've been asking you the same question for five minutes."

Squeaking in surprise, then, feeling embarrassed, coughed, asking, "Sorry, what was the question?"

"I asked if you wanted some water," a plump, elderly nurse replies, lips turning slightly upwards at the corner.

Water. A desperate thirst seizes Emil, as his body finally catches up with his mind.

"Yes, please! And kindly tell General Berwald to visit as soon as possible?"

Nodding, the nurse rushes off with a kindly smile, leaving Emil alone with his thoughts. As they became indecisive once again, Emil reaffirms his decision.

" _I'm going to do it. Democracy will prevail. Mathias was actually right. For once, this is me, not Lukas."_

A rustle of the tent flaps announces Berwald, shaking Emil out of stupor before he loses his resolve.

"Hello Emil. How are feeling?" Berwald asks, stepping towards Emil. Inhaling deeply, Emil fixes his gaze on Berwald's. There would be no cowardice.

"I'm going to Mathias's side." The silence was thick. It was loud. It was suffocating.

"Why?" Berwald questions, stunned. He assumed Emil's hate was far too strong.

"Because I who will win, and I've never liked losing. If we surrender now, we can end this peacefully. Lukas promised we would rule together. It will not be a tyranny. I won't allow that. We'll use democracy, we can change the world for the better. Mathias doesn't even have to be included." Emil begins firmly, but quietly mumbles the last sentence.

"Ah, vengeance. And you and Lukas, brothers once more. You plan to overthrow Mathias, but agree with his ideals. Why not forgive him? Is not your assumption of betrayal wrong? You are doing the very same." Berwald asks, trying to reason with Emil.

"He still divided us! He should have talked it through! He did it with me. When he first announced his plan, he treated how it divided us like a _joke_! Like he does with everything! He severed Lukas and me over a joke!" Emil shouts, rage invading his voice.

"Your anger, it's turned black. Just remember, good always triumphs." Berwald observes.

"But isn't that what Mathias thinks? He thinks he's the good side. It's all about perspective." Emil counters angry at being implied evil. His tone softens, his form deflating, and the anger leaves only the small, tired body of a teenaged boy.

"I'm sorry this is so sudden. I haven't been a double agent. Mathias wanted me to, but ultimately let me decide. I don't do that."

"But, didn't he shoot you?" Berwald inquires, finally asking the question that bewildered him the most.

"Mathias didn't really shoot me. He used plastic bullets and the blood was from a fallen soldier. The scene was engineered to buy him a draw. He was a lot more wounded than he seemed. After all, I was trained by the best."

"Lukas again. Don't allow your brotherly bonds to let him make your decision. Choosing to fight, it defines who you are! Don't let Mathias' manipulative words clone you!"

"You know what! I thought you'd get it! I'm tired of living in Lukas' shadow! We're brothers, not clones! Sure, Lukas did most of the talking and he convinced me to join their side. But, _I_ made the decision. And, guess what?! It looks like I choose correctly!" Emil whirls away from Berwald, storming out of the tent.

"I brought your water S-," the nurse looks around in bewilderment. "Where'd he go?"

"I'm sorry ma'am, but he isn't here." Berwald said, and also left. He needs time.

* * *

A lone figure stands on a shabby makeshift stage. His normally intimidating form shrunken and worn. Before him, all the remaining soldiers stood, shivering in the wind. He would die before recruiting more. He didn't need more anyways. The game has changed.

"First of all, I want to thank you for your loyalty. Your dedication to this cause is amazing, bar _nothing_ I've ever seen." He begins with a shaky voice, but it becomes stronger. He _needs_ to let them know how much they amaze him.

"General Berwald! You are defending us- _humans_ -from your _family._ You are defending our _freedom_. You gain nothing from this and stand to lose a lot. We should- _I am-_ thanking _you_ for _your_ loyalty to _our_ cause. Sir." A soldier interrupts, causing Berwald's eyes to moisten. Such love. Such strength. Such passion. _This_ is why he wouldn't surrender.

"Thank, thank you!" He began again, voice cracking with emotion.

"But, I have a tragic announcement to make. Emil has left. If any of you want to leave, I won't hold it against you. Our odds aren't good."

"If any of you leave, _I'll_ hold it against you! If you leave, you're giving up your rights and freedom. No, worse than that! You're giving up _all of our_ , _all of humanity's,_ rights and freedoms. In short, you are a despicable person and I will _personally_ hold it against you." A lieutenant barks.

"That is enough Lieutenant! I understand your position, but please do not pressure your fellow soldiers. That is taking away their rights and freedoms. And _that_ means we've already lost. And _that_ is unacceptable because I plan to fight until my last breath!" Berwald shouts, leaving the chastised Lieutenant sheepish, but firmly determined.

As one, all the soldiers salute Berwald.

No one leaves.

No words are spoken.

No words are needed.

* * *

Berwald stands in front of two of his saluting lieutenants.

"Sir, Lieutenants Ro-."

"Please don't tell me your names, things aren't looking good and I don't want to get attached," Berwald says, looking very grave.

"Understandable, Sir. But, we will write them down for you. If we are taken in battle, please honor our families." One asks formally, her hair tousled by the wind and her face solemn at the prospect.

"You aren't the one that spoke up in the meeting."

"No, sir!"

"Then, I have the two bravest, noblest lieutenants in the world!" Berwald announces, as both noticeably stand straighter.

"As you know, a very critical move has been made. So, we're going to need to make some big changes."

Laying the large map over the table, Berwald inspects his numbers. His troops were more than the Danish and Norwegian armies, but the Finnish one won a distinct advantage in numbers. Luckily, Emil had refused to allow the Icelandic army in the war. Berwald doubts that will change. Still, the prospects for the next battle were troubling. Was he heading to his death?

" _Good always wins over evil_." The words echo in his mind. _"But…are my actions good?"_ whispers a voice. Berwald pushes it aside. No doubts.

"Since our numbers were greatly reduced in the last battle, we can only use 3 troops on each flank. On the front line, we'll dispatch…say about 4 troops." Berwald places pins on the maps as he outlines his plan.

The Lieutenant who spoke in the meeting, whom Berwald mentally calls Loyal Lippy, points a weak point in the left flank. "This has 4 less people than the right flank, it's also where the enemy's will most likely to be attacking. Emil betrayal is critical. He knew all our most important strategies."

Berwald sighs. Emil is-was- his friend, and just like Mathias, threw away Berwald's trust like it was nothing.

"So? I always thought they were a bit boring! Let's cook up some new ones. We have to actually. All the priorities have shifted. They want to end the war, so they will be after you. The armies are a distraction, really. So, to counteract this, we need to find a way to tip the scales. Our plans will have to protect you. They will need to be daring. They will need to find the advantage. And they will need to take out as many of the other nations as possible."

Berwald looks in shock at the other lieutenant, "Honor." From her solemn question earlier, Berwald assumed she was quiet and serious. Apparently, instead she is a cunning daredevil. But, the objectives are sound.

Loyal Lippy just grins, obviously used to her attitude, before making a suggestion.

"But we'll be in the mountains. That'll give us an advantage, if we take high ground. I say 14 snipers, pair them up. Put each pair in these areas." He sticks more pins on the map.

"We can't use up all of our men in this battle. We had too many casualties in the last battle. Mathias and I do have a common interest. Ending this war as soon as possible! He won't wait for months. He'll strike soon. So, we'll have to grab the mountains quickly." Berwald gazes at the two, an unspoken desire hidden deep within his eyes. "It's time to plan for a search party. I have an idea. But, it'll be a big sacrifice."

* * *

Tino's mind is a coil of snakes, twisting and turning. The desire to see Peter burns. He wants it _so_ much. But, just as he works up the nerve, a flash of Peter's face, lined with betrayal and hurt haunts him. Although he knows Berwald told the child Tino was neutral, he also knows Berwald made Peter hate Mathias' side. Should he visit Peter? He thinks about Peter. A small boy, sitting alone in the cold, dark cell. Were there rats? Was he too cold? Was he crying? Tino still felt shaken after the last battle. So many men died for Mathias, and his, cause. War always had a powerful effect on every nation. Look at Ivan with the broken remnants of Russian history. Would they end up like that? Worse, every time a Finnish man died in that battle, he _felt_ it.

" _Their pain…I felt each and every one of their pain. Oddly enough, I wanted to hold on to it. If nothing else, it was a reminder of their sacrifice. It kept them from being just a number. But, the fighting, it grew, and grew, and grew! Their pain compounded. I tried to tell them apart, separate individual suffering, remember part of their life, but…it hurt so much…I couldn't tell who died. I let their legacy be tarnished and reduced to a number, a statistic. I…I hate myself. And if I hate myself, Peter would loathe me… Should I visit him? I'm back where I started…great."_

* * *

" _Their voices are so_ loud _."_ Peter thinks, but continues listening anyway. How else would he know who died? How else would he know who to mourn? Who to hate? Was it Papa? Mama?

Their voices drift easily through the bars.

"Yeah. The _surprise_ worked brilliantly, just as planned. We're definitely on the right side. Every single one of Berwald's guys were totally off balance."

"Same with me. I mean, Mathias' reveal was pretty brilliant. I wasn't close enough to hear it, of course, but I've got a cousin-he's a cook-and he overheard it from T"

"Shush. You know who we're guarding, don't let it slip!"

"Yeah, sorry, but anyways, he heard it from _that source_ and, apparently Berwald and Emil's faces were _priceless!_ "

"Sweet, I can just imagine it! I kind of hate them for standing in Mathias' way, you know. I mean, he's trying to achieve _world peace_ -and he could do it too-and they're trying to stop him!"

"Yeah! I feel your anger. Their making a decision for the whole world! That's taking away our rights and spilling our blood while they're at it!"

"But, you know, it's not a "their" anymore. What? You haven't heard. Emil left. Mathias convinced him. That's why I'm on this side. Mathias is the one person-err, nation-that could pull off the world peace thing."

"Well, he's extremely charismatic, that's for sure! I heard…"

The voices blur from Peter, his mind spinning with new revelations.

" _Emil! That slimy rat! How dare he betray Papa. If he comes within ten feet of here, I'll rip him in shreds! What was the surprise though? Was it a weapon? It must have been to throw_ my _Papa off! At least, no one died-at least, no nations-or they would've talked about it now. Especially with Emil's betrayal, if Papa was dead, the war would be over. I hate this! I feel so…so powerless!"_ Overcome with anger, Peter kicks the door. Then, immediately begins hopping on one foot, yelping, "Ow, ow, ow!"

The guards come in at the loud sound. Realizing what happened, they begin to mock Peter.

"Awww! Were you trying to escape?"

"I hope not, if so, that was the lamest try I've ever seen."

"Yeah, but you're expecting too much. I mean, have you _read_ his file. This guy's twelve and he acts like he's five _all the time."_

"True. You'd think he'd grow up. I mean, his family's in a Civil War. It's kind of pathetic. Let's go."

" _That was so dumb! Now my foot hurts….again_. _But, they're right! I am acting like a five year old. Except for my talk with Mathias, I've been a whiny brat! I need to grow up. But, what can I do? I know! I should try to escape and get to Papa Berwald_."

Peter tried fitting through the door's bars, picking the lock, even digging a way under the door, which was useless since the floor was stone.

" _I want Papa Berwald! Even though he was physically twelve, he knew he sometimes had the mind of a five year-old. He was so useless! Once Arthur even sold him on E-bay!"_ This thought brought a wave of feelings, he'd been holding back: nostalgia, anger, fear, sadness, confusion. Overwhelmed with emotions, Peter began crying. Long, wails of sadness and anger. Short whimpers of fear and confusion. Quick sobs for nostalgia. It was a mess. Soon, Peter became angry. He began yelling and pounding on the door, tears, intermingled with phlegm, running in rivulets down his face.

"I WANT PAPA! I WANT MAMA! I WANT OUT! IT'S AWFUL IN HERE! EVERYONE HATES ME! IT'S SO COLD AND MISERABLE! MAMA! PAPA! DO SOMETHING! LET ME GO! I WANT MAMA AND PAPA AND MY TOYS! SOMEONE LET ME OUT! YOU'RE ALL HORRIBLE! I HATE YOU ALL! YOU MAKE ME SO SICK AND MISERABLE AND WON'T LET ME OUT! AND ARE PROBABLY KILLING PAPA AND MAMA! AND I WISH YOU WOULD ALL JUST DIE!"

For all their mocking, the two guards has absolute _no_ experience with children. So, they ran for help.

* * *

Soon, Mathias came into the room. His hair was dripping wet and a cluster of soap suds were stuck on the back of his head, but he had the most experience with children, specifically Peter.

" _Great! Just what I need before Battle Strategy!"_ Mathias thinks, feeling very annoyed.

"Peter! Calm down!" Mathias shouts over the din.

Peter didn't hear him.

Mathias tries again, "Calm down!" Mathias continues yelling, but every time Peter's voice rises in volume to match.

" _How has he not gone hoarse? How have_ I _not gone hoarse? Kids are such a mystery. An annoying one. How did I get from a nice, long bath to here?"_

Finally, Mathias yells angrily. "Argh! I give up! Sit in that safe cell while people are dying in the war! Way to respect the sacrifice of others!"

Mathias watches as Peter's face scrunches even more with anger. "You mean while people are dying in the war _you_ created!"

" _That's it! I am not dealing with this now! Ungrateful brat!"_ Mathias' thinks angrily, while yelling, "Jeg kan ikke holde det ud! Jeg får Lukas!"

Growling, he leaves the room, ignoring the temper tantrum and the two desperate guards.

"I'm never having kids."

* * *

Lukas walks to Peter's cell. He can't believe _he_ got chosen for this. Incompetent guards.

" _Why do I have to do this?"_ He thinks exasperated.

As he enters the room, the guards run out, after a quick, "Thank goodness you're here!"

Lukas nods his head and watches Peter. He was crying and wailing and beating the door. Lukas just stares, waiting for Peter to stop. The next five minutes were filled with the sounds of screaming and punches. Finally, Peter calms down and begins to feel Lukas' staring. He slowly stops crying, sniffling as his tears halt.

Deciding he was calm enough to approach, Lukas says, "Peter."

The boy looks up, red eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Why were you crying?" Lukas asks.

"I want Papa Berwald and Mama Tino so much!"

"I know you do. But you can't throw tantrums just because you want something. Our family is in a war. We're on opposite sides, but that does _not_ mean you trivialize anyone's sacrifice by throwing a tantrum when you're safe inside a cell, while others are fighting for their lives. Understand?" Lukas sternly reprimands Peter.

Peter nods slowly, but then furiously blurts, "But, maybe that's why I'm having a tantrum. Because everyone else is fighting and sacrificing and I'm stuck here waiting to hear whose dead!"

"I know it's hard. But, you're twelve. And you can't fight unless you know why you're fighting and what it's for. Use this quiet jail cell and _think_ about what each side stands for and the consequences of each. It's time to grow up, good guys and bad guys aren't always so easy to discern. Everyone is fighting because they believe what they're doing is right. Do _not_ marginalize that." Lukas leaves the room.

"Back to your posts," he commands the guards.

"He won't cry again, right?" The guard's face was priceless.

"No, he won't. I made sure of it." Lukas ignores the guard's relief.

* * *

" _I can't believe I did that. Right after promising to grow up too… But Lukas is right. I have to think. I have to choose. Hmm…it's time for dinner soon, or at least, what passes as it here."_ As if on cue, a cloaked person enters with a plate.

" _Another nasty meal. But why the mystery?" Peter wonders._

The person slides the food under the bars, and for a brief moment, Peter catches a glimpse of the face. Pale, with violet eyes.

* * *

" _Did he see my face? He saw my face! He hates me! This is awful! Argh! Why am I such a coward? This is all Berwald's fault. If he hadn't poisoned Peter, I wouldn't be scared to meet him. But, really, the only person I can blame for not going through with that is…me."_ Tino sighs.

Then, Tino hears Peter's voice, a faint whisper carried by the wind.

"Papa Berwald, help!"

Feeling irrationally angry, Tino swiftly leaves the room. Not pausing to hear, the small, "Mama Tino?"

* * *

" _Was that Papa Berwald? No, he doesn't have violet eyes… Mama Tino! But…why did he run? Why didn't he save me? Does…does he work with Mathias?! No! He can't! Papa said he was neutral. I bet Uncle Mathias got Lukas to make an illusion to get me to stop crying! He is so manipulative!"_ Peter's thoughts are whirling, but he refuses to believe Mama Tino wouldn't rescue him.

* * *

The room was light and tastefully decorated. It was contrasted by the dark guns, yellowed maps, and worn strategy notes that frame the walls.

"Sweden's mountains are tall, so it will be a difficult trek. Let's position these troops to the three mountains to the right flank. Sources say they've already captured this mountain, so we'll meet them on the opposite side." Mathais suggests, picking up a pencil to draw out their plans.

In a flash of pale flesh, Lukas grabs his wrist, snatching the pencil away from him.

"You _are not_ drawing again," Lukas states firmly, while drawing the plans.

" _You're no fun! You have no appreciation of symbolic art!"_ Mathias thinks, while hunching over the map in the dim light.

"We need a big strategy. I need you to use your magic! For the revolution," Mathias wheedles.

Lukas sighs, "For the revolution. Fine. I'll use my magic again. But, this project. It's going to be exhausting."

"Thanks. Now, onto air support, we can't risk any, causing an avalanche that's not controlled is not a good idea. But, we'll use snipers." Mathias continues, counting on his fingers.

Lukas shakes his head. "We need Tino on the front lines."

"Ooh, you're right. What about a controlled avalanche?" Mathias eyes gleam with excitement.

"No, such thing. Suppose it wrong? Everyone would die." Lukas reminds. "Besides, we lost too many men in the last battle."

"OOH! I have a great idea!" Mathias excitedly says, acting like Santa Claus was coming.

Tino enters.

"What is it?" asks Lukas tiredly, noting that Tino looks very emotionally drained.

"We could cause an-." Mathias was interrupted by a Sergeant.

"Excuse me, General Khøler? But a man here wants to speak to you. He said it was of uttermost importance."

Mathias looks at Lukas and Tino, both raise their eyebrows in suspicion.

"Send him in." Mathias commands, waving his hand at the Sergeant. The soldier salutes, then exits the room.

"Who do you think it is?" asks Tino, turning to his allies.

Lukas, face devoid of emotion. "No idea."

Mathias merely smiles. _"I knew I played it right!"_

The creak of the rusty door signals the solider and the mysterious guest's entrance.

A bundle of furs enters the room, the figure removes a ski mask, revealing Emil Steilsson.

* * *

 **Translation:**

 **Danish: Jeg kan ikke holde det ud! Jeg får** **I can't stand it! I'm getting Lukas.**


	5. Death and Deception

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. But, feel free to give me money anyway.

* * *

The icy winds sweeping down from the mountain bites at their pale faces. The cold climate sends chills down their spines. They shiver in anticipation. In the distance, the burbling of a small river echoes to their ears, it's water trickling gently. The scene would be a beautiful spot to relax in, but unfortunately relaxing would be scarce today.

Mathias's army stands behind him in a tight, organized formation. It seemingly multiplied overnight! No one dares speak as Mathias and Berwald glare at each other across the valley. Each waiting for the other to make a move. The tension in the air was thick.

Finally, Berwald makes the first move and relocates his troops.

"With this ratio, chances of success are slim. Even if this is our last stand, keep fighting. Fight until you can't even walk. We will do everything and anything to win."

"I have to say, Berwald, I truly do pity you. Rousing speech, though. Very heart-warming. " Mathias spits out viciously, letting it ring through the silence.

"With such a small army, you expect to defeat us? Your hope is…cute. Sadly, I feel it's my duty to destroy it. It would be much easier to surrender. Join us! We can bring the world under a new reign of peace and prosperity. Don't shed your men's blood futilely! This battle has only one outcome." Mathias continues.

"Don't be so cocky. You underestimate the power of my men." Berwald replies with a glare.

"Disappointing, but not unexpected. Very well then, shall we start?" Mathias asked slyly.

Berwald nods, a determined expression engraved on his face.

"Charge!" Mathias shouts, and the battle begins.

* * *

Emil skillfully weaves through the soldiers, gripping his weapon tightly.

" _What's Berwald doing? We've massively outnumbered him. There is no hope of his victory._ _He'll never survive_ _"'_ Emil's thoughts are interrupted as he narrowly dodges a dead soldier's falling corpse. Bile rises in his throat at the body's mutilated form.

' _I_ _can't do this! I can't kill my family. Maybe this all a nightmare. No. It's not. The pain's too sharp. I wish all of this never even happened! Why can't we all just get along, compromise even! This is ridiculous, Berwald is going to die because of me._ _I didn't want to leave him, but this is the only outcome. Mathias is going to win and the only thing to do is limit his influence. Why didn't Berwald see that? Just compromise with Mathias! No one has to die because of this! If we all work together, then it will all be okay. Mathias said we would all rule together! We can make the world better just like Mathias said… Please, Berwald…where are you? I have to convince you. I have to make things right again… I'm sorry…"_ Emil's head hurts from thinking so much. He catches a glimpse of shining glasses through the crowd of soldiers. "Berwald!" he shouts, breaking into a desperate run.

* * *

" _Kill Emil."_ Mathias's voice rings in Lukas's ears. He remembers last night...

* * *

" _Now, I thought I expected this, I did set it up after all. But…he's been acting strangely. He says he wants to join, but whenever I'm near Emil tenses. Is he a double agent? Trying for an assassination or two? That doesn't seem like his style, but his hate. It was so strong. Perhaps, he hates you now. Wants revenge, feels betrayed, can't see the glory of our goal! Yes, he's definitely spying. The little brat thinks he can trick us? For all that I won't to win this war, I won't tolerate cheating! He likely wants to kill you out of a misplaced sense of revenge. Eliminate him before that happens please. Strike before he can… He thinks you betrayed him? Show him true betrayal." Mathias' voice rises, each word dripping with hatred. His dark form is outlined by the shadows. His anger made him seem so...unearthly. T'was the night before battle, and all in the house, were possessed with mad rage..._

* * *

" _I can't do this. I can't take it anymore. Kill Emil? My own brother. How can he say that so nonchalantly!? What if Emil really isn't going to betray us? I can't live with myself if I do this. But…what if…what if, he_ is _trying to kill me? Does he really hate me? Why little brother? And…if he is trying to kill me…or Mathias…or Tino…I…I can't let that happen. I have to stop him. This…this is… No! The revolution is bigger than this. I can't be selfish. I have to eliminate all possibilities of the revolution ending…or….or I sacrifice billions of people's happiness."_ Lukas runs, gripping his sword handle with such strength, his knuckles began turning white. He lets out a sigh.

" _Don't be selfish. Mathias knows what he's doing. The world needs change, even if Emil won't be there to see it. Would Emil really betray us? It would make sense since he was always defending Berwald. Why didn't he ever defend me? I'm his brother! You'd think he'd be grateful that I was by his side!"_ Anger and jealousy engulf Lukas, just as he spots Emil. He lunges at Emil, his sleek sword glinting in the sun.

" _Aim for the neck. Aim for the neck. Make it a quick death, so he won't have to suffer too much. Even if he is a traitor, he's still my brother. Lunge, right foot first…missed! No! I don't want to draw this out."_

Emil jumps back and winces as the sword slices into his shoulder. A long trail of blood trickles through Emil's clothes, dotting the ground with red.

"I'm on your side now! Don't you remember? Is this a prank? I'm sorry, okay! I'm back now, we can be brothers again!" Emil shouts, while scrambling to dodge the furious attacks.

"Sorry. No prank. Captain's orders." Lukas says venomously. Seeing Emil's flinch, a unique rush of victorious adrenaline energizes Lukas' smirk. Emil quickly jumps back but lands on ankle oddly.

 _Snap!_ The break fills the air.

"Great timing." Emil mutters.

Lukas immediately notices Emil's slower, sluggish movements. Emil is even struggling to lift his spear. Lukas's eyes shine brightly with triumph.

 _"This can't be good. Focus of defense."_ Emil reminds himself, while dodging Lukas's skillful, rapid attacks. Emil swipes his spear. Lukas' now boasts a long cut on his cheek to his elbow. The fine cut splits, dripping blood onto a patch of grass. Growling at Emil, Lukas jumps and lunges, inflicting a swift series of gashes and wounds on Emil's body. Wincing, Emil grabs his loaded pistol and fires shakily Lukas's chest. But, as he struggles to maintain a solid posture, his wounded ankle gives and the recoil from the rifle ruins his aim. The bullet lodges into Lukas's arm and blood trickles down his uniform.

"Please! Stop! I…I came back!" Emil cries desperately.

"Oh, please. You were spying! Or planning an assassination! Did you feel betrayed by me, little brother?!" Lukas fires back. Then, in retaliation for the shot, he begins silently chanting and focuses his magic.

A brief flash of light blinds Emil, who stumbles back, dropping both his spear and pistol. A fatal mistake.

With just a miniscule hesitation, Lukas draws his broadsword.

 _Swish._ The metal cuts through the air.

Lukas quickly plunges it into Emil's unarmored stomach. Emil shrieks in shock and agony, falling limply to the ground. As he looks at Emil, Lukas feels a heavy weight attack his heart.

" _Brother! No! You're hurt!"_ His mind screams, as he views the bloodied body, littered with cuts and gashes.

"I did this…"Lukas moans, while Emil suddenly stops writhing in pain on the ground. His body shudders violently. Lukas throws himself onto the ground next to Emil.

"What did I do? No..." Lukas whisper sadly. Emil begins gasping and coughing. Scarlet blood oozes from between his slightly parted lips. Lukas struggles to keep his face emotionless. Emil weakly opens his mouth and gently smiles, life draining from his eyes.

"You idiot. Look what you've done." Emil coughs, smirking slightly.

Sadly, Lukas strokes Emil's platinum hair. "I had to…" Lukas trails off.

"I love you, bro." Emil rasps before spitting up a glob of blood.

"Me too, little bro. I'm sorry, please forgive me…"

"Hey, I get it, threats to the revolution…I…I…for…" Emil breathes shallowly. His chest gradually slowing to a rest. Dull, lifeless eyes met violet ones. Reality hits the older nation and he gasps.

"No! Come back! I love you, just please come back!" pleads Lukas, sobbing into Emil's hair.

"Just please come back. I never got to tell you _how_ sorry I am. It's too late now. I _am_ sorry. I thought I was being selfish, but…no matter how many lives the revolution might save…it's not excuse to murder… I should have _tried_ compromise first, but I just leapt into violence without second though. _You…_ you were trying to find Berwald, right? You were trying to end this peacefully… We jumped to violence far too quickly… We're supposed to be civilized, but, at the back of minds, it's just war, and anger, and greed for power. We messed up this revolution. A plan for peace…executed through war. How ironic. You'd think that'd would've been a good indicator the plan was all wrong. But…we were blinded…" Tears flow down the Norwegian man's face, dripping onto Emil's cold cheek.

"I love you so much! I want to see you smile again, to hear you laugh again. Who's going to take care of Mr. Puffin? Please come back!" Lukas whimpers pitifully into Emil's hair, holding his younger brother's lifeless body. Racking sobs overtook him and he just _cried…_ Fat, hot tears:

of shame,

of regret,

of missed chances,

of loss…

It was a heartbreaking scene. A perfect illustration of the cruelty of war. Two brothers separated by the cruel veil of death.

Lukas gently rakes his fingers through Emil's hair. Overcome with grief, Lukas envelopes Emil's limp body into a tight hug.

"C-come back..." he chokes out, trailing off at the end.

"This is hopeless. He's not coming back. All because of me." Lukas mutters. And all the soldiers, Mathias, Tino and Berwald stop fighting for a moment, just long enough to hear the ear-piercing, heartbreaking, and broken scream of a crippled man. A victim of war and human-even from nations-folly.

* * *

Tino glides over the ice, watching Mathias's soldiers all charge at Berwald's small army. His eyes glint darkly and he releases a hollow chuckle at Berwald's wide eyes and shocked mouth. His idea from a few nights was gold!

* * *

" _You contacted them as I planned, am I correct, Lukas?" Mathias asks, while Lukas shrinks back._

" _The vampires said they 'refuse to fight in the petty squabbles of the young and naïve', but they like me-because I'm quiet and don't 'annoy them with useless babble, but provide decent company'- and I've received some healing blood" He replies, gently handing Mathias a small vial of swirling red liquid._

" _Good job! And the tr-" Mathias continues interrogating_

" _Naturally, I visited them. They wanted to have a bit of a brawl, which is where I got this." Lukas points to a bruise on his abdomen, causing Tino let out a low whistle._

" _They were happy that I gave 'em such a good fight and wanted to come down here and smash some 'puny humans,' but they got distracted by a fight with another settlement-you know how long_ those _last-over-can you believe this?-a wild wolf pack and forgot all about me. But, luckily, not before I was gifted an illusion box. I say 'gifted' lightly. It was my seat. They thought it was a normal box. But, I detected the magic and contacted a friend. He told me it's very powerful. Apparently, I can create any illusion we need, even make them solid with enough power. But, it'll take a_ lot _of concentration mentally. And I'll need suggestion for the details to make it realistic. Also, this will drain me for a while-at least a day-so we need to do it tonight."_

" _Hmm. Very well. What should we do? The possibilities are endless…" Mathias wonders, placing his fist onto his chin in deep thought._

" _I know! I know! Lukas, use it to make a huge army for us! That way we can throw off the other army. Berwald will think we tripled so quickly! It'll throw all of their strategies off!" Tino says loudly, contemplating Berwald's astonished face with happiness. He wants to mess with Peter? He'll have to fight!_

 _Lukas's eyes widened._

" _That will take a lot of energy. I'm not sure if I can do that." He protested._

" _That sounds awesome! Anyhow, you might as well try. This will totally throw off_ anything _Berwald has! We pretty much won!" Mathias replied happily, ignoring Lukas's spluttering._

* * *

Tino smiles, sighing in relief. _"Thank goodness! No humans will be harmed today. Well…at least on our side. Only some of the illusions will actually cause harm anyway. They're designed to stall the fights. Now, to end this war!"_ Tino thinks while racing up their side of the mountain, looking for the weapon.

" _There! The grass…it's turning greener. It feels warmer. I'm here! There's the paddock. Now I just have to rile them up! Hope all my allies are in position or it's gonna be messy!"_ Tino opens the gates, runs behind the paddock, and fires a gun! All the yaks in the paddock panic. They trample each other to get away, running right down to the battle below.

" _Much more controlled than an avalanche…I think… They'll stop eventually anyhow. Plus, since all our soldiers are illusions, Berwald's should have time to run! It'll be hilarious to see the looks on their faces. This is definitely original! Now, his armies are down…time for Berwald…and my vengeance!"_ Tino grins sinisterly, consumed by anger and rage.

* * *

Mathias scans the battlefield. It was chaos. Yaks chase Berwald's soldiers away, while the illusions form a blockade to protect Berwald's soldiers. Then, when the yaks came, they "died." Hopefully, they wouldn't fade before they were buried. Berwald used all his magic on it though. So…maybe… This faux sacrifice should be a great strategical move. Berwald's soldiers will likely be less resistant to his rule. After all, once the day was over…the revolution would begin!

Finally, he spots Tino's form rushing down the mountains. He had done his part perfectly, now, judging by his speed, he is going after Berwald. The war would soon be won!

* * *

"Silly, Berwald." Tino whispers gleefully, as he spots Berwald's form. Berwald looks _so_ confused. Guess those yaks were a surprise! Tino finally reaches Berwald, as the once quiet mountain echoes with roaring, screams, and orders. The insanity was beautiful.

Tino grabs Berwald, pulling him aside. His once calming cerulean eyes now icy blue with rage. Mathias appears behind him. Both corner Berwald into an isolated place. Above them, a mountain looms gloomily.

"Surprise!" Mathias says loudly, his cheerful tone edged with something hard.

Tino jumps at Berwald, swinging his pole. Berwald dodges, stepping back. His back bumps the mountain.

" _He has nowhere to run!"_ Tino thinks gleefully.

He is wrong.

Swiftly, Berwald shoots at them, turns, and then jumps onto a ledge. They thought he couldn't climb the mountain! He fires his gun at the two every so often, while racing up the steep incline.

Tino charges after him, while Mathias circles stealthily behind. Berwald straps his gun to his back, rapidly pulling out his pole.

They reach the middle of the mountain.

He changes his stance, warily waiting for Tino and Mathias. Tino finally appears, lunging at Berwald with his identical pole ready. Berwald smirks, releasing a high kick to Tino's jaw. Tino falls back. Then, quickly regains his composure.

" _A new technique? Aww…such hard work just for me! That's right! Notice me, you traitor!"_ Tino thinks and Berwald rushes, successfully disarming him. Grinning momentarily at his victory, Berwald exhales. Then, his glee suddenly turns to pain. Berwald clutches his side as blood pours out. Mathias appears behind him.

"Here, Tino. I'll leave the rest to you. For once, let me be the one to say…Merry Christmas!" Mathias' voice is still dripping in false cheer, tinted by true glee-victory was _his-_ and he steps out from behind Berwald. Blood dripping from his knife.

Tino jumps up and grabs his staff. He lands continuous hits on the weakened Swede, taunting him mercilessly. Berwald hunches over in pain. A mad frenzy overcomes Tino and he rains down blows-pole, boot, and fist-in a mad rage.

" _Faster! Faster! Harder! Harder! Make him hurt! More! More!"_ Psychotic voices whisper in his ear. Berwald just takes it, mouth open in a silent scream.

Just before the light leaves his eyes, Berwald slowly draws his gun and fires one last shot.

A rumbling was heard in the distance and everyone looked up. Snow rumbles down from the mountain top as everyone freezes in panic. Mathias and Tino topple down the mountain.

"AVALANCHE!"


	6. Suprises: Good and Bad

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. And you probably wouldn't want me to.

* * *

Mathias gasps for breath. He felt heavy. He felt cold. He felt trapped. He tries to scream-help, he needs help-but his mouth merely with snow. Cold. Wet. Suffocating. It fills his mouth, drowning his body in the sensation. He is freezing!

" _I can't stay down here! I must survive! I must reach air! How? The snow…it's_ so _heavy. No! I must try! I will not die without trying!"_

With new determination, Mathias struggles to move. Flailing his arms and kicking his legs, Mathias attempts to push off the heavy snow.

" _I must reach the surface! I must survive. Dig…I need to dig! Claw, push snow away, claw, push, claw, push!"_ His thoughts repeat, chanting the plan to survive.

" _Tino! He's here too. If I reach the top, I'll help him…but I'm_ so _tired. No! Don't think, just dig, push, dig, push!"_ Mathias commands himself. But, the cold seems to last forever. Like all he'll be is cold. For eternity.

" _Think! This wasn't supposed to happen. All because Berwald caused this avalanche! But, Berwald! He's dead! I've won! I've won! I've won!"_ Mathias frantically fights to reach the surface, new strength surges through him. He will not let Berwald win!

" _Light! I am saved! I was not weak! I won!"_ Mathias thinks, just as his breath began panting and his vision blurring. A strong hand grips his arm, pulling him firmly, but gently out. Out and away from the icy tomb.

" _Not a tomb! I won! I beat it! I beat Berwald. The Revolution is won!"_ Mathias silently and internally cheers, while outwardly his body reacts to the cold. Shivering, he looks up at the person who helped free him.

The tall, solid form of Lukas looks at him blankly. His eyes are cold as always, but intermingled with swirls of…was that a hint of anger and regret?

" _Nah, probably just my imagination. Why would he be angry? We won! Unless…"_

"Where's Tino? Did he make it out? Is he okay?" Mathias breathes heavily to regain his breath, after firing the queries. He looks at Lukas in concern.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since the avalanche. But, I was looking. Instead, I found _you!_ " Lukas replies in his usual monotone, but an odd venom enters his tone at the end,

" _What did_ I _do?"_ Mathias wonders, then, brushing the question off-it's probably nothing-he starts digging up snow. Where was Tino?

"What are you standing around for? Help me find your commanding officer!" He barks to the soldiers-where did _they_ come from-nearby. Time ticks. Mathias worries. No sign of Tino. Was this Berwald's last laugh? Finally, Mathias sees a pair of bright violet eyes, pale blonde hair stuck messily on top of them. Mathias hauls Tino out of the snow. Tino pants for breath.

"You okay?" asks Mathias, displaying unusual anxiety, checking over Tino for any possible injuries. Avalanches were no joke. Ice shards could pierce skin. Falling from that big of a distance…it could kill. Internal bleeding is a very real concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." Tino says in return, grinning. It was a tired grin, straining at the corners, stretching strangely.

" _Why is my army here?"_ Mathias wonders. I used illusion golems.

"Colonel!" Mathias yells, recognizing on of the loitering soldiers. A dark haired man runs over. He salutes quickly, barking a "Sir!"

"Why are you here? Didn't you go recruiting like I asked? I told you the holograms were all I needed!"

"Sir, we've finished scouting out possible new soldiers and have initiated connections and alliances for your reign."

"Why have so few returned? Did something happen?"

"The avalanche, Sir!" Mathias' stomach drops. They were supposed to be safe. None of them were supposed to die. That was the point of the magic golems!

"Report on casualties!" Mathias braces himself for the answer. This was all his fault. He told them to find him immediately once they were done. They arrived at the worst possible time.

"Sir! About a third of our army was wiped out by the avalanche!" The soldier reports, his voice dripping with sorrow.

* * *

" _Those were his friends. It's also more than I thought. I…I have letters to write tonight._ " Mathias thinks, a dull ache invading his heart.

As Lukas watches Mathias talking with the Colonel, hot, fiery anger surges through his veins.

" _How dare he talk with the Colonel like that?! Like nothing happened?! Like Emil just hadn't been murdered?!"_ He thinks, rage building in his heart, harvesting in his heart.

" _By you. He was murdered by_ you!" A tiny voice, coming from deep within him, whispers, reminding Lukas of his biggest regret.

" _Keep calm. I must look furious."_ Lukas chides himself, as he notices the Colonel and Tino casting odd glances at him. Tino looks especially worried.

The Colonel leaves. He has to see if any survived the avalanche. If there is anyone he can save. Lukas understands. Life is precious. All life.

As he leaves, Mathias comes over to Lukas, a sickening jaunt in his step.

"Dude, you okay? I mean, you look like you're about to blow your top!" Mathias says, his face a perfect picture of confusion and concern.

" _How dare he? How dare he not care? How dare he after what he made me do? Like_ his _death is_ nothing! _"_

Lukas turns his head slowly towards Mathias, who takes a slow, cautious step back, alarmed at the furious rage Lukas was directing at him. He was emanating a near solid aura of anger.

"I hate you! You killed Emil! They were your orders! I hate you, I HATE you, I HATE YOU!" Lukas screams at Mathias's face, finally losing his cool.

Mathias retaliates, angry that Lukas blames him. "I just told you to do it, as a commanding officer, you didn't have to do it! You never had to kill him! _You're_ the one who killed him! _You're_ the one who stabbed him in the stomach with your sword! _You're_ the one who snatched away his life and crushed it!"

"How did you know how I killed him? Did you place spies to watch me? Yeah, you definitely treat me like a commanding officer!" Lukas shouts, anger masking his horror. Someone watched me kill Emil… Lukas knows Mathias words were true, and it tortures him. But, his anger twists and churns. It blinds him. It roars! The guilt yells too. Pulsating deep in Lukas, they empower his self-justification. This was _not_ his fault! It was Mathias'! Mathias the Murderer!

"None of this would happen if you hadn't even told me to kill him!" Lukas snarls, anger and guilt pushing him onwards.

All the soldiers are congregating in a circle. Nervously, watching their two superiors. Waves of quiet gossip spread, the news of the conflict's cause brushing the ears of everyone. Tino sees them, and attempts to usher them away. The celebration of the Revolution should not start by watching their leaders fight. That was hardly inspiring. Or lucky.

"Doesn't matter, you're still the murderer of Emil Steilsson. Besides, Emil probably would have betrayed us like he did to Berwald. He was hardly very strong of will. The Revolution would have fared poorly with him in charge. It was better for him to die." Mathias spits, angry that Berwald is ruining their victory.

Lukas's eyes widen. Anger and Guilt chant and pound.

" _Too far! He went too far! He called you a murderer! He called Emil weak! He called Emil a traitor! He would have had you kill him off, betrayal or not! Are you really going to let him talk about your brother that way? Who's the real traitor here?!"_

He screams in rage, and with a swift motion, draws his broadsword. It was still stained with its last kill.

" _Emil's blood,"_ hisses Anger and Guilt.

Mathias whips out his axe in defense.

Lukas puts his sword back, waiting for Mathias to do the same with his ax. When Mathias does, Lukas leaps at him. Fists pounding. Fleshy blurs descend on Mathias' face. Blood and bruises spread. Mathias tries to push Lukas off, but his rage is an anchor. He will not be moved.

The sound of yells break through the fog. Slowly.

Someone shoves him.

He will not be moved.

Someone begs.

He will not be moved.

Not from Emil's killer.

Not from vengeance.

"Emil would want peace! He wanted to negotiate!"

This yell is different. This one penetrates his anger. It pierces through his guilt.

It is true.

Emil didn't want this.

Lukas stops.

He leaves.

* * *

"Remember! Berwald has fallen. We have won! Your plan has won!" Tino says, as Mathias starts trying to stand, reaching for the departing form of Lukas.

Shards of hateful thoughts still rang in his mind about Lukas. But, Tino was right. Berwald was dead. They had won the war. Even though the cost was too high. Too many lives…lost. But it wasn't for nothing. They had bought happiness for the world. Mathias would not fail them. He would make things right. He would fix it.

" _Like you fixed your family?"_ His subconscious remarks. Sometimes the worst barbs come from yourself.

"I guess now that the war is over, I should tell you what my soldiers were really doing. They were recruiting for when we won and secured the world. I figured the war would end soon, especially with Emil's betrayal." Mathias reveals. He hopes they did a good job.

Surprise covers Tino's face, but is quickly replaced by an impressed look. "We should send someone back to the base. We've won! Everyone must celebrate the victory!"

Mathias nods, and points to him. "Exactly! You'll go back to the base, and we'll stay here and collect the soldiers who died."

He hears Tino mumble, "I didn't mean me."

He ignores Tino. He needed to be alone to bury the men. _His_ men.

As Tino left to return to the base, Lukas came up to Mathias.

"I'm not apologizing. I'm just saying that I want to collect Emil's body, no one else will have that honor."

Mathias grudgingly understands, giving Lukas permission for the duty. He shouldn't have said what he did about Emil. His anger just grabbed him. He wanted to hurt Lukas. It worked…but it hurt him too. Emil was honorable. He even told Berwald of his switching. His greatest trait was honor…and sarcasm.

" _Neither of which, I'll ever experience again."_ His thoughts mourn.

While he and other soldiers dig out the dead, Mathias couldn't help but think,

" _Lukas is right. This is my fault_."

* * *

" _This is an awful plan! I won't let you!" Berwald shouts at "Honor."_

" _Sir, this is the only way to win the war. At least, the only one I've thought of…"_

" _See, there must be other ways! What about your family?"_

" _I have none."_

" _But...your request?"_

" _Made for my partner."_

" _I still won't let you!"_

" _Sir! With all due respect, this is my decision. I want humanity to have freedom. When I signed up for this job, I pledged to do everything possible to ensure that right."_

" _There are plenty of countries that don't have freedom. Why aren't you trying to change them?"_

" _They're ruled by humans. I don't mean to sound…racist? Nation vs. Human…ist?"_

 _The other lieutenant-"Loyal Lippy"- snickers._

" _Oh, shush. You know what I mean! Humans decided not to change their governments by not revolting!"_

" _I don't believe you! That makes no sense!"_

" _Fine! You're right. It's because…I couldn't do anything about any of those other governments. And, it's their right to have those types of government if they want too. But, I believe it's my right to fight against this one. It will completely change my_ homeland _and I_ don't _want Mathias ruling it!"_

" _Why you then?! Why not someone else?"_

" _If we tell the other soldiers. It will leak!"_

" _You doubt your men? You think there's a spy?"_

" _No, but an intercepted letter does the same thing."_

" _Why you then?"_

" _My partner's too short."_

" _Hey! I mean, true, but hey!" The lieutenant interjects, then resumes watching the by-play._

" _You will die!" Berwald yells, slamming his hand on the table._

" _First, that hand slamming was very cliché. Secondly, yes, I know. My choice, remember? I'm a soldier."_

" _What about you? How could you agree with this? I thought you were friends!" Berwald asks, turning towards "Loyal Lippy."_

" _We are." He says, cold firmness leaking into his voice._

" _Sorry." Berwald apologizes._

" _It's her choice. She's right. I respect that. I will miss you though, you're an amazing person!" "Loyal Lippy" says, after acknowledging Berwald's apology with a nod._

" _Good. We all agree!" "Honor" says ignoring Berwald's slight scowl._

" _Fine." He assents reluctantly._

" _Write me specific instructions on how to impersonate you, please."_

" _Okay. And while you're doing this, I'll be infiltrating the enemy base. And you"-he points at "Loyal Lippy"-"will lead the charge" Berwald explains._

" _Sir! I will not fail you!" "Honor" cries, snapping into a salute._

" _You cannot!" Berwald assures, thinking…_

" _I hope you somehow survive this."_

* * *

Berwald remembers the conversation with a depressed attitude. She'll probably die. Because of him... As he is riding on his horse, he notices how this winter was colder than most Swedish winters. A lot colder. The wind nips at his face, not helping his demeanor at all. He shivers as a gust blows his hat off. He lunges and grabs it back. A light snow fall has begun. The small flakes twisting-dancing-in the wind.

The woods are dark now. The snow brings a crisp feeling to the air. It gets harder to see. The forest is rapidly darkening. Crickets begin their melody. Frogs croak in a nearby brook.

" _Maybe I should stop for the night. But, the battle! It'll start tomorrow. I don't have much time. Better press on."_ He decides.

A chilling sound breaks through the air.

Wolves.

They're on the hunt.

They're coming near him!

" _They must have smelled my horse!"_ He begins to panic.

Struggling to stay calm, he urges his horse to go a bit faster. Maybe he was wrong. A flash of something catches his eye.

It's a wolf's paw.

It's huge.

Time to go.

The wolf howls, and more wolves-at least six-come bounding in, ready for the chase. Their leaps are sure and quick. They want meat.

Spurring his horse to a gallop, Berwald races to leave the dangerous woods. He manages to out-run them for a while, but then, one of the larger wolves cuts in from the side. It leaps onto the horse's back and clamps his teeth, jerking its head sideways. It tears out a large piece of the horse's flesh, who squeals in pain, and panics. It tries to buck and attack the wolves. Berwald barely holds onto the horse. Eventually, it starts to run slower. Bewarld leaps from it. The wolves quickly catch up, their howls resonating through the woods. They quickly bring down the horse. Berwald swiftly stands, running desperately for the nearest tree, metal staff in hand.

" _Please make it, please make it!"_ As he climbs the tree, the wolves spot him. The alpha members have surrounded the horse. Those locked out of the food, sprint over, barking and howling. They try to leap to Berwald. But, can't reach their prey. They hungrily growl, staring at him.

Berwald finally manages to position his rifle. Quickly loading it, he fires and kills two wolves. The alpha members pull away from their prey, leaping to defend their pack. The others growl furiously, and one tries jumping up again. It nearly bites at Berwald's dangling foot. He quickly pulls it up into the tree.

" _That was too close! I can't get so complacent!"_ He chides, then kills three more, their blood and bodies staining the perfectly white snow. As Berwald jumps down, he hears the distinct growl.

" _I forgot the last wolf!"_ Running in panic, he hears the wolf getting closer. He urges his legs to run faster. It's dark. The snow's coming down in a frenzy. The wind whips tree branches in his face. He can't see.

 _Oopmh!_

Berwald falls into a small ravine. The wolf leaps on him, biting a gash in his leg. He pulls out his pole and swings wildly. The rod connects with the wolf's head. The wolf dies quickly. And Berwald, falls unconscious, blood leaking from his leg.

Berwald wakes the next morning feeling sore and bruised.

" _Ow, I'm so sore. But how am I going to get to Mathias's base now? Time to start walking."_ Trekking through the forest, Berwald notices the sun shining through the thick foliage, a heavy contrast with the night before.

Berwald only carries his pack of food and weapons. Anything else will slow him down. The snow crunches under his feet. Ahead of him lies rows of beautiful evergreen trees and a large iced lake that glistens in the sunlight. And next to an evergreen tree, lies a shabby, tiny cottage. He walks towards it, hoping for directions. Knocking on the door, he wonders who lived there.

" _Hope it's not one of Mathias's men_. _That would be just my luck._ " The door opens, revealing a short, elderly lady.

"Hello?" she asks, tilting her head back to meet the gaze of the tall Swedish man.

"Excuse me, I had no intention of interrupting you." Berwald apologizes, stepping back.

The woman smiles gently. "No worries dearie. It's just myself living her, you definitely weren't intruding. How, may I help you?"

"I was on my way west, when I became lost in the woods." Berwald explains.

She nods her head in understanding, then smiles, and gestures for him to enter the home.

Berwald's eyes widen. "Oh no, I'm afraid I could never intrude on anyone's home."

"Again, you're not intruding. I'm inviting you. And, as your elder, I say get in here now!"

Berwald mentally smiles. Technically, he was alive when the Vikings were, so he was much older than she was. But, he didn't argue. Old people could be very scary and extremely persistent. He enters her humble home. There wasn't much. A table, a bed, small kitchen, and a couple of other things here and there. Still, he could tell it was well-loved. And warm.

"Please sit." She says, heading towards the kitchen. As he sits, the old woman returns with two apples and two small slabs of meat.

"I'm sorry, but this is all I have." She says apologetically. "It's getting harder to get out to find or buy food now. My traps are hardly getting any meat. And those awful soldiers steal most of it! I hope they go soon or…well… Look at me! You hardly need to be hearing my troubles. How rude of me, I'm terribly sorry."

Berwald remembers he has food in his pack. Opening his pack, he gives her the meat, fruit, and bread.

"Here, this should last you a while." He offers.

Her face brightens in relief. "Thank you, so much! But, I simply couldn't. You look like you're going on quite the journey and I shan't have you starve on account of me. I'll make do. I always have."

"Actually, I have more outside. No need to worry. I insist." Berwald lies, knowing he could easily steal more food from Mathias' base. In fact, it would be his pleasure.

"Oh…well…"

"Please?"

"Oh, fine… Thank you kindly, dear. But, I can't just take it… I know! A trade!" She leaves to fetch something. A minute later, she comes back with a map and a wrapped parcel. Unraveling the map, she points where her home is.

"I assume you arrived asking for directions. It's the least I can do. Where are you trying to go?" she asks innocently.

Berwald hesitates, she might not appreciate his destination. Maybe she'll think he's one of "those awful soldiers." Finally, he makes a quick decision and points to Mathias' camp. Or about where it was.

Her eyes widen in shock. "Why?" She breathes.

"Infiltration." Berwald says, praying she wouldn't be mad at him…or alert any soldiers.

"Ah." She says, her eyes turning bright with excitement and…knowing?

"Take the map and open the parcel, then dearie."

Berwald opens the parcel, and it reveals a small wooden bird on a metal chain. It was delicately crafted.

"Oh no, I couldn't take this!"

"Please, as a token of kindness." She says, then stage whispers, "I actually got it in a flea market when I was younger. I haven't used it in forever! But, you seem like the type to appreciate it." She holds up her hand, a clear indication that she wouldn't accept it back.

"Thank you, Ms.…?" he trails off, belatedly realizing he didn't know her name.

"Cocoa is fine." She says. "And you?"

"Berwald."

"Berwald? As in General Berwald?"

"Uh, yes."

Chuckling gently, she leads him out. "Thank you! It's an honor to meet our defender of our nation."

* * *

About three hours after meeting that kind old lady, he arrives at enemy base, using the helpful shortcuts she outlined. He spies a lone guard. Sneaking up from behind, he knocks out the guard and takes his uniform.

" _Luckily he was very tall."_ Berwald tries to act like Mathias.

" _I hope this works. It's my last resort. Maybe his soldiers are really incompetent?"_ Berwald hopes.

Unfortunately, he has to take off his glasses. He kept bumping into things. One soldier looks at him strangely.

"Sir! You're back! What's the news? How'd the battle go?"

Berwald panics.

" _Wait! That worked! Well, he does look a bit tipsy… Oh! Respond! Be like Mathias. Be like Mathias. What would he say?"_

"It went totally awesome! The, uh, the Revolution will begin!"

" _That was horrible. I'm gonna get caught. Caught. Caught. Caught. Did they even win? I hope they won. No! What am I saying?!"_

"Sir, are you okay? Your voice is deeper than usual."

"Dude, I'm totally fine? Um, oh yeah, you're needed at the guard station."

The soldier salutes, then runs towards the guard station.

" _That was awful. I'm dead. So dead."_

Luckily, he didn't run into anymore soldiers. But, apparently news had spread that he was acting strangely. He was a very bad impersonator of Mathias.

* * *

Tino enters the dungeons. He is extremely nervous about seeing Peter. But, he had too. They had won and he couldn't wait forever. But…what if Peter ended up hating him?

" _I'm going to do it! I'll have to do it anyway_!" Peter sees Tino and his face lights up.

"Mama Tino!" he cries in happiness.

Tino winces, Peter is going to hate him.

"Um, well, I'm not here to save you." Tino says.

" _That sounded so cold_. _I am so bad at this._ "

"I'm with Mathias. But, we won."

"What?! How could you?! Papa Berwald said he trusted you! Mathias's side is traitorous and bad! They locked me up! _You_ looked me up!" Peter yells, horrified at Tino's loyalties. Tino winces, Peter's face is a reflection of devastation, shock and anger.

"So, me being on Mathias's side makes me bad?" Tino asks.

"Well, what if I say yes?" cries Peter. "I bet you'd follow anything Mathias said for you to do! I bet you're the one who killed Emil!"

Tino's temper flares. "Who told you that?"

"The guards were talking about it outside and I heard them." Peter answers, his face hard.

"I did not kill Emil! Lukas did that!" Tino defends himself.

"Bet you would have, if he told you to. You probably would have killed me, if Mathias said so! Following your perfect and flawless leader through lies and betrayal!" Peter said his voice rising.

"That would be a favor to me now! You ungrateful brat! If Mathias told me to kill you, I might just do that just so you would shut up!" Tino shouts at Peter.

"Murderer! Liar! Traitor!" Peter shrieks.

Suddenly, Peter grows quiet with realization.

"You killed Berwald! You said you won, so you must have killed him! I HATE YOU! YOU KILLED PAPA! I HATE YOU!

"Just die!" Tino screams at Peter, losing his temper.

Peter recoils, as if he was injected with a toxic venom. His eyes wells with tears, and turns his back to Tino.

" _That was too far_." Tino thinks, ashamed.

" _He deserved it! Plus, he knows I didn't_ mean _it!"_ His anger reasons. Annoyed, Tino turns on his heel and makes for the door, his hair clip falling onto the ground.

* * *

Peter can't believe Tino said that! True, he was being mean to Tino, but he was the traitor here! He was the one that killed Papa! Plus, Tino was always the protective Nordic.

The caring and loving one.

The Patient one.

The one who adopted Peter after Jerk Arthur sold him on e-bay.

Did Tino, _Mama Tino_ , really mean those things? He must have, for Mama Tino always tells the truth.

" _Papa is dead. And Mama wants me to die! Mama killed Papa! I…I don't know what to do?"_

Peter glances back at Tino, who is walking away. He spies Tino's fallen hair clip and grabs it.

 _"All my family is dead. The rest are traitors. What will I do? I understand Mathias' reasoning, but…they killed Papa! That's not how you bring happiness. I'm so confused. Mama Tino said I should die. So…so I will_. _I'll die, just like all the good people in my family did. I can't live with these people anymore. I didn't even see Papa's body!_ _If I'm really meant to live, the clip will slide down my throat. Fate will decide!_

Peter looks at it one more time, and shoves it in his mouth. He tries to swallow it, but it gets stuck. Gulping to make it go down, it scrapes against his throat. His throat constricts, causing the pin to tear against the tissue. Blood comes gushing out his throat, gurgling and suffocating him. Peter hoarsely chokes, gasping for air, but, the clip only rips his throat more. Pain. So. Much. Pain. He falls on his knees, desperately clutching his throat in attempts to yank the clip out.

" _Fate hates me."_

* * *

Tino hears Peter screams. He whips around, only to be greeted with a traumatizing sight. Peter is kneeling on the ground, blood gushing out of his throat, he's coughing weakly. Tino shrieks in fear, running over to the cell, inserting the key, and yanking open the door. Holding Peter, Tino tries to find the source of the blood.

" _Where is it? Where is it? There's too much blood_!" Tino frantically attempts to stop the bleeding. But what's happening? Suddenly, he hears a scraping, choking noise again. From Peter. Finally, Tino finds the source of the bleeding, Peter's throat. He grabs the clip and tears it out. Peter screams in agony.

" _Aah! That was such a bad move! How do I staunch the blood? I'll choke him! His throat is so torn!"_ Tino tries to calm the writhing child in his arms.

"Mama Tino? I-I forgive you for joining with Uncle Mathias." Peter weakly says, looking at Tino.

Tino sniffles sadly. "Thank you. I don't forgive myself for this."

Peter makes his bright smile, the one Tino always loved seeing. But, it was coated with blood. It was the last one he would ever see again. Peter shudders, releasesing his final breath. As Peter's body became limp and deathly pale, Tino realizes the awful truth.

"NO! You can't die! You can't die! You still have a life to live! You can't die! Peter! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I take the words back! Do you hear me? I take them back! I didn't mean it! I was tired and angry! And you hurt me! And I…I…" Tino screams in vain, shaking the child's body, hoping that there would be signs of life.

There weren't.

"PETER! Wake up! You can't be dead! I'm sorry for all those things I said to you, but please wake up!" Tino is sobbing by this point, because he knew the truth, he didn't want to believe it.

"I don't want you to die. Please…you were still young. You shouldn't have died like that. Please still be alive. I love you so much." Tino hunches over, holding Peter's body close to his own, weeping and wetting the floor around him. Blood and tears mix in morbid puddles on the ground.

"Why? Why did you have to die because of me? You should have lived."

Tino glances the lifeless child in his arms.

" _This is all my fault. If I hadn't lost my temper with him, he would still be breathing. I don't care if he hated me! Not if he's still alive to do it! That's part of why I joined. Mathias said he'd save Peter, that he wasn't safe with Berwald, so we kidnapped him! This was all for his safety!"_

Tino screams in anger, hitting his fist on the stone ground, furious with himself.

" _I ruined his safety! I killed him! Why did I say those things! It's all my fault! My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, MY FAULT!"_

Tears pours out of Tino's already red eyes. A faint whisper chant echoes through the cell. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Hollow, racking sobs fill the room, replacing what words leave empty.

* * *

Berwald finally finds the dungeon.

No guards.

" _Must be slacking. Well, they did, "win." But, seriously, if they didn't get that I'm not Mathias…"_

He burst into the room, receiving one of the biggest shocks in his life.

Dead, bloody Peter with Tino holding the child. His sobs left a hollow echo in Berwald's heart.

" _What. Did. You. Do?"_ His mind roars!

Tino's head lifts slowly.

Violet and teal eyes meet.


	7. Ghosts and Magic

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I just drop of few of their characters into a Civil War. You know, nothing big.

* * *

Berwald freezes. His eyes open in complete disbelief.

Tino holds the broken body of a child in his arms. The cell is dark, only a few strands of light peer through the bars-as if the rest of the beams know not to enter. Tears stream down Tino's face running tracks through the blood coating the body's face. The child was familiar. Faint memories wash over Berwald.

No facts. No details. Just feelings.

Happiness.

Warmth.

Frustration.

Amusement.

Anger.

Love.

That child was family.

It was Peter.

" _How could he? How_ dare _he kill Peter?! Peter_ loved _him! Did Mathias make Tino do this? How low have they sunk? Did they do this just to hurt me? No…the blood is too damp. Recent. Tino must have gone crazy. Peter….Peter….Peter is dead. The last of my true family. Gone. All because of TINO!"_ Berwald's thoughts roar the name.

" _Murderer!"_ They chant. Cries of _"Killer!"_ and _"Traitor!"_ join their battle cries.

Hate. Murderous rage bubbles and flows from somewhere deep inside Berwald. He clenches teeth, grabbing his pole, after passing over his rifle. Tino did not deserve that privilege. He didn't deserve a quick death. He should suffer.

Tino's head twitches, as if alerted by Berwald's sheer hated. It rises, tilting upwards.

Violet eyes meet teal.

"You _filth!_ " Berwald spits, circling Tino, giving him time to lay Peter's body out of harm. His pole gleams in the light, resting high above Tino's head, like the ax of an executioner.

" _Yes, that's what I am. The executioner. It's only fitting really._ " Berwald grins. It's wild and out of place. Invading and distorting his face, rippling it with madness. It's the face of a desperate, broken man grasping for a purpose.

Tino raises his head. Swollen, red eyes haunted. He understands the subtle message, gently placing Peter on the hard ground, then his eyes change. They lose the bitter edges, though the haunted visage remains. And then, a deep, dark madness seeps into his eyes.

A part of Tino is gone. It drowns in the madness. It will not come back.

"Filth? Me! Hah! What about you?! I can't believe you're blaming me for this! Peter committed suicide. He did this to himself! It was probably just another one of the brilliant, perfect, true things you told him." Tino shouts, rising from the dirty floor.

Berwald's shoulders shake. But, he does nothing else.

Together-in silent communication-they leave the small cell quietly.

The door swings back in with a hollow creak.

Peter's bleeding body is alone in the darkness.

Now, out in the large dungeons, Berwald and Tino circle each other.

Berwald lunges, as hate overcomes wariness.

"You didn't kill him, _right_?" Berwald drags the last word out, revulsion and hate fills him. How dare Tino lie?!

"You expect me to believe that! Actually, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Trash coming from trash." Berwald snarls, his pole whipping through the air.

Numbing vibrations jolt his arm as the pole clashes upon the stone floor.

Tino barely managed to dodge.

"Very classy. Massively original. And yes! I do expect you to believe that. It's the truth after all. And truth's always been your little thing, hasn't it Berwald?" Tino replies, venom dripping from his tongue.

His sword deflects Berwald's next blow. Tino winces as his arm is twisted.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Berwald asks, noticing Tino's pain. His swings increase, pressuring his advantage.

"Please, naïve isn't a good look on you. Not a member of this family doesn't have your cute little lectures memorized." Tino spits, angry at being forced to defensive.

"Well, obviously, you haven't actually understood them. Too hard for Santa to comprehend?"

"Yeah, it's all those cookies. High on fat, you know?"

"Stop avoiding the truth! You killed Peter!" Berwald yells, leaping in the air, releasing a high kick at Tino's face.

"No! He seriously did it himself! What are you? Deaf?" Tino tries to roll, but Berwald's pole slams into the side of his head.

"Even if that's true…You had to have done _something_ to cause it!" Berwald lands awkwardly. He manages not to fall, but his pole rolls to the side. The whoosh of air prompts him to turn around and the gleam of silver metal greets him.

The pain fueling him, Tino slices Berwald's forehead, barely missing his eye. Ducking underneath the sword, blood marring his vision, Berwald tackles Tino, knocking the sword from his grasp. They abandon their , knees, feet-everything-flies through the air. Decorum, structure, and class are gone. It's an outright brawl.

Each opponent just wants to _hurt._

Sounds drown out into void.

Pain loses its sting.

They just want to _destroy._

Footsteps thunders towards the two.

"Commander Tino, General Mathias, why are you fighting?" A soldier asks, the shock forcing a pauses in their battle.

"General Mathias? What is _wrong_ with you? That's not him, it's Berwald! Can't you see, you absolute-?" Tino yells, trying find a word strong enough to describe the soldier's sheer incompetence.

The soldier steps forward, head tilting to get a better look at the other man.

But…he is gone.

* * *

Berwald appears at his armies camp, carefully checking on the necklace, lost in the fog of reminiscence.

* * *

 _Berwald had just left the old lady's house. Pausing to examine his new gift, his eyes light up as he spots the normal signs of enchantment. Quickly, he checks the map, then looks at the sky. Perfect location and plenty of time._

 _A few minutes later, Berwald arrives at a cleverly hidden house under a bridge. Grimacing as the mud sticks to his boots, he enters quietly._

" _Excuse me, Nova?" Berwald calls, looking at the wizened old man._

" _Ah, Berwald. It seems tales of your death have been greatly exaggerated." The man calls out, his voice cheerful, with an odd tone of youth, defying with his appearance._

" _Indeed, old friend. But, if I don't act quickly, they might not be."_

" _So…you've been learning. Clever words can disguise a rude message. Frankly, I'd feel better if you just said, 'We need to get to the point and I need you to do something for me.' Much simpler, really."_

" _I'll remember that, but seriously, can you check this for me?"_

" _I know it has enchantments, but I can't tell what they are." Berwald gently hands the necklace to Nova, whose hands clasp it reverently._

" _What a fine work of art! Such subtly, so well crafted! Beauty hidden in its simplicity. You are lucky to have obtained this…"_

" _Great! What does it do?"_

" _Young ones, so uninterested in my craft…"_

" _Nova…"_

" _And…impatient." The man's eyes twinkle with glee, before he continued with a dramatic long-suffering sigh. "Very well, to put it in the most base, horrific fashion. It teleports."_

" _Useful." Berwald remarks, but his posture betrays his nonchalance. He was leaning forward, eyes fixed on the object. "I need to go now, I'm afraid, thanks for the help Nova."_

" _Yes, it's nice to see Berwald, but, you_ must _come back as soon as you can. The item you possess…you must learn about it."_

" _Sure…does it do anything else then?_

" _Not yet…"_

* * *

He looks around his camp, then sighs.

"Lieutenant!"

"Reporting, Sir!"

" _Not good. 'Loyal Lippy's' posture…it's taut with grief. What happened?"_ Berwald's thoughts whir with horrible possibilities.

"Brief me on the battle, please. I assume you the men of our plan."

"Yes, Sir. _Her_ body was delivered by Mathias' guys. They don't know."

"So, she..."

'Loyal Lippy' nods sadly, then gestures to the Strategy tent. They both walk towards it, silent in a moment of grief.

* * *

After the meeting, Berwald sits in shock.

" _All of that…for nothing. I failed. My mission failed. And all my soldiers did was suffer… Luckily, the yaks didn't hurt them. A rather clever manipulation tactic on Mathias' part. He knows just how to charm them. At least, I know my decision is right."_ Feeling the Lieutenant's hand on his soldier, he rises and walks outside. All of his soldiers are there, waiting to hear his announcement.

"Thank you all for gathering. I'll make this short. I'd like to inform you all to disband. As you likely know, the odds are quite against us in the war. I don't want any of you to get injured for a lost cause." He finishes solemnly, watching his troop's reactions. The low murmur of whispering fills the air. Small conversations drift into his ear, carried by the gentle breeze.

"Is he serious?"

"I don't know"

"Is this some kind of test? To prove our loyalty or something?"

"This is crazy."

One voice is loud. Its target is Berwald.

"So, you're giving up on us?! You're surrendering to _them_?!" Several voices join in disbelief.

"No. But this is no longer the job of an army. Spread no word of my survival. You are dismissed." He turns his back and begins walking to his tent. The crunch of boots against snow alerts Berwald. He grips his weapon, swiftly facing the person. Immediately, he relaxes at the sight of Loyal Lippy's form.

"Sir! You must be out of your mind! We would never abandon you at a critical time like this. I understand your reasoning, but you winning all by yourself is just absurd!" Lippy exclaims exasperatedly.

"No. This should have always been the plan. The key to this war is take out the family. Key individuals. The Nordics never needed an army. If whichever side just got rid of the other, the war would be over. I guess…I guess we were just too afraid to kill each other ourselves. So, we used you guys. Ironic, because our anger ended up pushing us to _only_ confronting each other anyways. We had no need for the armies. If they're all gone, I _know_ the war will end.

"What about Mathias' followers?"

"Without Mathias' charisma, I highly doubt they'll have the ability to take over the world. Plus, I've met those guys, there is _no_ way they'll achieve Mathias' goal alone. They're completely incompetent."

"Maybe your plan would have worked in the beginning. But, not now! I'm overriding your command. There must be some way we can help defend our freedom!"

A melancholy smile spreads across Berwald's face.

"I assumed this would happen. Do as you wish, I trust you."

Then, he disappears once again.

* * *

Mathias raises his glass of beer in the air cheerfully.

"To us!" He yells jubilantly!

"To us!" The soldiers respond happily, applauding.

"And to the Revolution!" Mathias announces after pouring another glass.

His soldiers echo the cheer and the celebration begins.

"It was an excellent victory!" Mathias states, looking at the celebration with pride.

Lukas grimaces at Mathias'. It was disgustingly happy. He even forgot the most important part! Lukas scowls, rolling his eyes at Mathias's carelessness.

" _I'll have to do it myself."_ Lukas decides, while standing up, waiting for silence to descend on the crowd.

Finally, the noise stops. He glances at Mathias, who looks back sheepishly.

"A moment of silence for the soldiers that were lost in the battle." Lukas's voice rings through the rabble. The sound of shifting cloth spreads through the room as soldiers remove their hats and bow their heads. The occasional sob penetrates the air. Soon, Lukas' signals for the mourning to end, while Mathias excuses himself.

* * *

Mathias arrives at his tent, his pace slower and solemn.

" _This is going to be a long night. I have to write_ those _letters… I_ hate _doing that. All those families… How can I justify this to them? Stop! I can justify it! When their grandchildren grow up in peace and harmony…that_ _will justify it. It has to..."_ Mathias thoughts grow in seriousness.

" _Lukas…he thinks I forgot. That definitely won't smooth things over. But…I…I just couldn't-couldn't stand up and feel the responsibility for all those deaths. Not now…I can't deal with that now. I need to work more on the plans for New Scandinavia."_

The flap tears. Mathais jumps slightly, turning rapidly to face the invader. It was…Tino. His face was swollen purple, a bruise forming on his eye.

"Mathias! Berwald is alive! I saw him! Peter is dead! It's all Berwald's fault!

"Peter's dead! Why? What happened?"

"He…he committed suicide."

"What? How? You said Berwald did it."

"We can't let our guard down, he might attack at any moment!"

"Sheesh, if you don't want to tell me, don't. I'll just ask the guards tomorrow." He pats Tino gently on the back. "You've probably just been celebrating too much, you know. Makes you a little crazy. Especially, that _Brewmeister_ stuff. That's a real kicker. Relax! Here, have some water." Mathias pours some water into a thermos, slyly slipping a sleeping pill into it.

" _That should get him to quiet down, it was giving me a headache. He sees some weird things when he's had a little too much. Berwald alive? Please, he's obviously suffering from the ol' conscience"_ Mathias thought.

Tino takes a sip, letting out a yawn.

Soon, his head lolls to the side and a soft snore is heard. Mathias lets out a low chuckle, then quietly turns back to his work.

* * *

Berwald let out a gigantic sigh.

" _How will I weaken Mathias's army best? I need to get to Mathias, Lukas, and Tino to win this, but Lukas gave them all amulets against magic. He gave the whole family them. Back when we_ were _a family. Now, a third of are dead and more on the way._ _They think I'm dead…so, perhaps…scaring them? But, won't that just make them_ more _cautious? Unless…I use that to lure them out, divide them, and trap them! It's perfect!"_ Berwald begin fleshing out a plan.

The moon is full, casting graceful silhouettes through the camp. Berwald sneaks towards the tents, observing the surroundings. The site is alive with the sounds of sleeping. Rustling blankets, flipping pillows, and snores fill the air. Berwald takes a dead carcass out of his knapsack. He slices its throat, collecting it's blood in a small jar. Smirking, he dips his fingers into the crimson liquid. Carefully, he makes his way to Mathias' tent. It was easily distinguishable by the Denmark flag.

" _Always the arrogant one Mathias…"_ Berwald softly chuckles.

Carefully approaching the flap, he begin to write. Words in eerie lettering form the messages: "I'm back! Now, you'll pay! The war is not won. Surrender!" He splashes a little on the bottom for effect. Stepping back to admire his work, he silently laughs.

" _First objective: complete. Next, let's thin out some of Mathias' ranks. The avalanche took out quite a few. Nice job, 'Honor.' Until the very end."_

Using the enchanted necklace, he carefully-and ever so quietly-teleports fifty of Mathias's sleeping men to Russia, Hungary, and Switzerland.

" _That's definitely going to spook them!"_ Berwald grins, before scanning the camp once more.

" _Oops, left foot prints and the carcass. Can't have them thinking its animal blood. I know!"_ After cleaning up the evidence,Berwald teleports once more, returning with the bone of a human arm. He dips in the blood and leaves it at the foot of Mathias' tent.

Then, he leaves.

Was he ever there?

* * *

The scene haunts Tino. It scrapes against his mind over and over. Replaying in perfect detail. Perfect isn't always good, you see.

* * *

 _Peter gasps. Blood coughed up from his mouth. His hands claw at his throat desperately. The screams. They don't stop. Until they do. When he's dead. Peter's final smile. Bloody and painful. Tino is just watching uselessly. Worse. He is the cause._

* * *

" _Blood. So much blood. Blood is red. So very red. Beautiful really. I like red. Red is the color of blood. Blood is pretty, so very pretty."_ Tino's thoughts are a crazed ramble.

But, they stop abruptly at the sound of chaos from outside. He blinks a few times, observing his surroundings, his heart still racing. He is in his tent. He steps outside. Soldiers are running around wildly. There, in the middle, are Lukas and Mathias. Both look exasperated. Tino walks up to them confusedly.

"What's going on?" He ask.

The two ignored him, continuing their conversation.

"Lukas, are ghosts real?" Mathias questions, his voice edged with just a tint of fear.

"Ghosts?" Tino whispers and looks around camp. Red blood decorates, well, everywhere.

Suddenly, Tino sees the message on Mathias' tent.

"I told you! It's Berwald! He's alive! He attacked me and then disappeared! It's all Berwald! You have to get him. Find him! Berwald!" Tino's voice grows louder and more incoherent.

Suddenly, a shout interrupts. Both Lukas and Mathias turn towards it.

Tino clenches his fist.

"General Mathias! Fifty soldiers are missing from their station." A small soldier reports.

* * *

Mathias and Lukas stride into a secluded tent.

"Tino is very unstable ever since Peter's death. I fear he caused it. Ever since Berwald…he's unhinged. If he can kill Peter…" Mathias voices drifts off, his implication hangs heavy in the air.

"Well, what do you think we should do? We can't just kill him!" Lukas replies, looking around the tent.

"Not exactly. But, if he's so obsessed with 'Berwald…'" Mathias' fingers form air quotes.

"Bait. I see, we leave him alone."

"I don't think anything's going to happen, you see. I mean, the messages, probably a joke. Some of these guys are kind of immature. They have weird senses of humor."

"I know."

"Hah! Oh, yeah, they did that-"

"Mathias, stop talking."

"Oh, don't be so sensitive, I thought you looked adorable."

"Mathias…"

"And you're hair was _hilarious_!"

"Mathias…seriously!"

"I mean, how _did_ they do that?"

"Mathias! Get back on topic!"

"Oh, yeah, so, basically, I think this message is probably a joke. I mean, animal blood's not that hard to come by and I saw Berwald die. There's no way he could survive that. Even if he didn't get beaten to death-yet another scary example of Tino's dangerous and erratic behavior-he couldn't escape the avalanche. It took all my strength to dig myself out. In his state? It's just not possible."

"Sounds like you're trying to convince yourself."

"Maybe a little, but it's working. The facts don't lie. Anyways, if it is, say, one of Berwald's supporters, instead of a harmless prank, then we'll just let Tino get targeted. I don't think they'll aim to kill, but if they do, well. Tino's not acting human anymore. This obsession? It's more like a rabid dog. And, you know how to deal with those…"


	8. Who Am I?

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, _you'd_ be watching a movie version of this story and _I'd_ be richer.

* * *

Every night a shadow visits the camp. Every night more disappear. Every night fear increases, just a little.

"No one has disappeared." The official peoples reason, "They are merely not suited to the next stage. They are soldiers, after all, not diplomats. They've done their part. Besides," they add a cavalier wave here, while their voice descends ever so slightly into condescending tones, "you don't really believe all that campfire gossip, do you? The dead don't come alive. Many people saw _his_ body anyhow, right before we returned it. Now, enough questions, fixing the world means a busy schedule."

* * *

Berwald appears silently. With a bored, tired atmosphere, he begins his now nightly routine and nearly trips when he sees a single person in the middle of camp.

" _Ha! They've finally gotten scared! At least tonight will be exciting. But, I can't have them_ too _suspicious. The only reason I've been fine so far is because Mathias is far too busy with his plans for his 'Golden Age.' I hope these notes work."_

Berwald creeps into a small tent, furthest away from the drowsy guard. After teleporting two soldiers to their homes-Mathias' abandoned registration book is rather helpful-Berwald leaves two small notes. Although they were dressed in fancy words, both letters essentially said the war was won, therefore their job was done, send the paycheck, and good-bye.

" _This should make it less suspicious and confirm what the high-ups are saying. Just the thing to make sure that lone night guard doesn't quadruple. A third of Mathias' numbers are already gone. If "Lippy" starts any official confrontations, this should even the odds. Mathias was foolish to think-like I used to-that once I was dead, the humans would just stop fighting for their freedom. It's a very selfish view actually. I laugh at… Focus. Teleporting to the wrong place again would just be embarrassing. This will have to stop soon. I need to confront Mathias and company. But, how? I_ have _to remove their protective gifts. Ha, Tino was so happy when he got his… Tino! I want to strangle that murderer! I_ will _avenge Peter."_

While Berwald thoughts and anger consumes him, he mechanically finishes his goal. Trying to calm down, his thoughts climb aboard a more morbid train.

" _Peter was only one casualty. Not even the first. Actually, it's kind of selfish of me. Mourning Peter so constantly without remembering the others. I've barely thought of them at all. It's not really my fault though, I hardly knew many of them. Wow, that just makes it worse in a way. And I can't use that excuse, I knew "Honor." Brave until the end. Tino probably tortured her. Because of me. I've caused so much death. Just for my_ family _and our petty squabbles. How? How did things jump so quickly from peace to war? What did I do wrong? What... What am I even fighting for anymore?"_

Berwald gazes at the sun behind the forest, the first rays of dawn peeking through the branches, decorating the forest in a glorious, innocent pink. His hands run frantically through his hair in frustration. His mind bombards him with torrents of sorrowful thoughts. Guilt devours and confusion reigns.

" _I need to get my head straight. I need to know what I believe about this mess. I…can't believe I've forgotten. I've been fighting and fighting and fighting, but I've…I've forgotten why… What am I even fighting for anymore? My family's all against me. Peter's dead. Emil…he betrayed me…"_

At the words _Emil_ and _betrayal,_ a memory rises in Berwald's mind.

* * *

It's dark, but the dancing candlelight gives the tent a homely atmosphere.

He appears, but he looks so different. Was this centuries ago? It's certainly not him now.

"Betrayal is the worst poison. The worst instigator of anger. Jealousy is powerful, yes, but true righteous anger? That is so easily justifiable. So easy for that hate to simmer to turn into black toxin. And even when that hate is black and venomous, you still see it as white, as right, as pure because that's how it began. Don't let your hate blind you."

* * *

The last word strikes a chord.

" _Don't let your hate blind you."_

" _But, I have. Emil…he didn't. That's it! I can't do any good for anyone, until I stop destroying myself. I am in no position to stop Mathias now."_

A counter argument rises in Berwald's head, _"But, I'm the leader of my army, I can make this foolish stop. I can try to compromise. I know Emil tried. What should I do? Am I fit to lead? Even if I'm not, how can I leave a battle-let other people_ die _-I started?"_

Mind still whirring with confused thoughts, a desperate longing sizes Berwald.

" _I just want to understand myself again."_

* * *

He disappears.

" _Where am I? What just happened? Is it Mathias?"_ At the last thought, Berwald instinctively reaches for his rifle. Then hesitates.

" _I'm so quick to kill him. Right after I decide to compromise. I. Am. Pathetic."_ A voice shatters his concentration and Berwald's head jerks up in surprise.

"Are you back now? Good, you listened, so many people don't anymore. Always rushing. Trying to get somewhere. It's quite sad." The old man's voice calls out joyfully.

"Nova. Ah, yes, Nova. Umm, I have returned to…to discuss…" Berwald shifts uncomfortably, trying to remember what they were going to discuss. Why _had_ the necklace brought him here? Awkwardly, he glances at Nova, wincing in embarrassment as the man's craggy face gains a knowing tilt.

"Ah, forgotten already! And I thought you were different. I'm terribly hurt." Nova

"No…no…I just..."

"Oh, I know how it goes. War does many things. One of such is distracting the mind. As you clearly need something else, I'll offer you a deal."

"Uh…for what…"

"I was getting there. Patience, dear…"

"Don't call me 'grasshopper.' Don't. I'm a nation, which means I'm way older than you."

The man pauses, chuckling at Berwald's indignant face. "So, you think. Remember, age does not mean maturity or wisdom, so be careful. Now, back to our deal, I shall help you examine the enchantments. And, perhaps, together we can find what you need."

"Okay, I _had_ been planning to take a bit of a…vacation."

"Hah! Sorry, you'll get none of that from me. This is work! Just because you came back from the dead, doesn't mean you'll get it easy."

"Great… Wait! How'd you know I died? Why aren't you surprised that I'm…not dead? I just thought you never heard about my death, but…"

"News travels quickly. Of course I kept my ears open to news of you. The war is a very big thing and news of ending spreads like lightning."

"Yeah, that makes sense. But, why aren't you surprised?"

"I think I shall tell you that at a later date."

"Okay. I respect that."

"I should think so. It's seems you're a bit to accustomed to being a commander, Berwald."

"Sorry. Anyways…about the enchantments."

"Ah, yes, come inside. I think we have a lot to discuss." Nova says warmly, waving his hand in the direction under the bridge.

* * *

Both climb down the ravine, Nova's figure moving with graceful experience, while Berwald trails more clumsily behind. Immediately after they enter the home, Nova bustles around, gathering ingredients for tea. Unsure of what to do, Berwald quickly glances to a chair, wondering if he should sit.

"Go on, lad. Sit. It's what chairs are for, after all." Nova gaily waves a bony hand at the furniture, grinning at Berwald's uncomfortable aura.

Berwald sits rapidly, nearly knocking the chair over in his haste. Both of them began laughing, Berwald's tension disappearing like the wrapping on Peter's presents. Jokes and memories begin exchanging and the two companions settle into a comfortable banter.

Soon, the kettle is whistling merrily and tea trickles into large mugs. After their first sips, the two share a look and the small talk peters off smoothly.

"Now, to business. Let me have a look at that marvelous piece of jewelry."

Berwald hesitates slightly, used to the comfort of a fast escape, before handing it to Nova.

"Don't worry, lad. I'd never damage something as great as this. It's truly a unique piece. Hmmm…" The old man produces a magnifying glass from a rusty drawer before settling in a battered rocking chair. His eyes grow in excitement and fascination. Berwald watches intensely, but is slightly disturbed as Nova begins muttering a garbled commentary.

"Ho! This is brilliant. Very nice. Hmm… Tricky… How _did_ they manage this? Nice bit of work here. Never seen such a beautiful work of art. Oh! What is _this!_ That magic is very difficult. Hmm… Huh, never seen _that_ used quite like this… Quite intriguing. Perhaps…" Finally, he turns to Berwald.

"I'm done." He says simply.

"Excuse me, but what have you figured out?"

"This woman, or man, was an absolute unparalleled genius."

"So, you didn't find anything?" Berwald's voice drips into bewildered, disappointment.

"Hah! No! She or he or whoever _was_ a genius. But, they were also quite mad."

"What! Will it hurt me?"

"Now, don't think madness is such a bad thing. After all, perhaps most people are insane and only a few aren't. But since majority rules, the sane are called insane, while those that are called sane are insane."

"What?"

"Either way," Nova continues, oblivious to Berwald's confusion, "it's not a destructive kind of madness. It's rather revolutionary. The magic used is wielded in such a unique, unexpected way!"

"Great, but…what does it _do?_ "

"Ah, my love of the craft is showing again. Apologies. To begin, as I've already mentioned, this little bird will let you teleport anywhere." The man says, tossing the charm back and forth with his hands.

" _Please don't break it_." Berwald worries internally, while asking, "Is that all? You were so excited…"

"Is that all? 'Is that all,' he asks! Foolish boy, it can teleport you _anywhere_ and you ask, 'Is that all?' Don't they have a school for nations? Hasn't Lukas taught you anything?"

"Don't speak of him, please." Berwald's jawline tightens, as he asks firmly.

"Ah, yes, my apologies. I shall try to explain. The way the magic operates allows the bird to connect to the wearer's mind."

"It's possessing me?!"

"No! Stop interrupting please!"

"Sorry."

"Quite. As I was saying, this connects to the wearer's mind, so as long as you have seen a place before-even in a picture-it can take you there. _Anywhere._ You can travel to the Moon, Pluto, any comet you see flying by, anywhere. But, be careful, the distance will not be picked up very well, so if you have poor knowledge of exactly where you want to land-like on a comet-you may end up just barely in its atmosphere, so you'll have to keep jumping downwards till the planet's surface."

"That's amazing. Could any of its magic be used for something other than teleporting?"

"Excellent question! Teleporting inherently warps time and space, so don't tamper with it. But, the crazy inventor also uses a gardening enchantment, which was originally designed to pot plants, and modified it with a magic used for _make-up_ to create an illusion, and _then_ it makes the illusion solid. Like that rather interesting gift Lukas obtained."

"So, I know I've been asking this a lot, but what does it do?"

"Every time you've teleported you've left a hole in the ground, but at the same time the hole was covered by an illusion which was instantly made real."

"How does that help? And why is it genius to include it?"

"Well, it doesn't help _you_ much, I suspect it was just a clever way for the creator to track who used it. So, if anyone stole it…"

"Yeah, that is smart, a map to the thief. Is there anyway the other properties _can_ help me?"

"Yes. If you modify the illusion command and take out the potting enchantment. You'll have a gift just like Lukas'."

"Cool!"

"However, you won't be able to teleport. The modification will negate the teleportation enchantment. Another intriguing failsafe by the creator."

"Great. I think I'll stick to teleporting for now, but…is there any way I could change it? You know if I needed to and you weren't there?"

"I…don't know. Maybe. I'd have to work on it. For now, it'll just teleporting anyway and modifying enchantments like that is rather difficult. Be warned, this will become extremely powerful in the future!" Nova declares, thrusting his withered finger in the cool air.

Berwald raises his eyebrow. "When in the future, may I ask?"

Nova chuckles heartily. "Ah, you are very much like a youth. So impatient for the grand things in life. So many don't enjoy life's smallest, brightest joys. Like laughing with good friends,"

"Bit short on those right now." Berwald quips.

"Or talking with family," Nova continues on unperturbed, a merry twinkle in his eye is the only sign of hearing.

"Not exactly on speak terms, you know."

"Or reading a book,"

"Just battle maps lately, I'm afraid."

"Or-, as hilarious as this is. We must work on your second request. What do you seek?"

"Uh, I don't know." Berwald answers, though not fully telling the truth.

"Hmm, that answer seems very true-too true-in many respects; however, not so much in others. I think you do have some idea of what you want! You wish to end this war, for one!"

"What?! No, I want keep being the cause of everyone's death." Berwald bites out cynically, uncharacteristically sarcastic.

Nova merely chuckles, the ring through the house deep and warm. But, suddenly his expression grows extremely serious. "As do I. I will tell you a secret. But, it will not win this war unless you use it properly."

"Please, tell me."

"I fear you don't know how to use it correctly. After all, that is why you're here, no? You need to fix your head before you fight more. Now, the hour is not so late, but I am tired, and you have some thinking to do. So, I bid you goodnight and I hope you have some productive thoughts. Perhaps tomorrow we can discuss them." Nova rises, stretching his back before leaving Berwald's thoughtful figure.

* * *

Mathias burns. He is mad. He is remembering. He remembers the whispers, the laughs, the head-shakes, the disappointed clucking, all of it. Mocking him!

Some to his face, well-intentioned, but still hurtful.

" _Mathias, you're so hilarious. I can always trust you to never be serious!"_

" _You do the craziest things. Guess it's easy if you don't have a brain and love fun!"_

Some whispers behind his back. No one trusts him to make important decisions. The act like he takes _murder_ as a joke.

" _Oh, Mathias. He's great to have for a laugh, but we probably shouldn't include him on_ this _decision. You know it's hard to trust him seriously. He'd probably just joke about it. And poverty is very serious. No, we should keep this meeting for those that can take this matter for what it is. An important, life or death situation."_

" _Great prankster, but he acts so stupid sometimes, this meeting's not for him. He just doesn't get there's a time for pranks and there's a time to help people and not joke about everything."_

" _We can't include Mathias in the leadership meeting. He's way too goofy, never takes the position of the role model_. _Everything's one giant joke to him, he'd probably crack one at his own family's funeral._ "

The words stung him. Sure he jokes around, but that doesn't mean he was worthless! The worst insults occurred at the last World Meeting. The one before The War. His War. It was actually a vital date. It started the Revolution.

* * *

 _It was the typical meeting. Yells filled the air. Everyone was shouting at everyone else. It was chaos. Mathias loved it. For a while, Mathias watched the normal chaos while running away from Lukas. As he was running past Ludwig and Wang Yao, parts of their discussion caught his ear._

" _Hah! No one here can have any type of order. This is supposed to be a serious meeting where we make serious decisions. Not a crazy party" Ludwig complains._

 _Mathias grins. Ludwig was so boring. He was always crashing someone's fun._

" _Aiyaa! I agree, everyone here is so immature aru! Especially Alfred, Gilbert, and Mathias."_

 _Mathias grin expands. Hah! He was in the top three. Except his name should have been first!_

" _Yes, none of them can be serious, ever! Well, except maybe for mein bruder. But only when he really needs to be, which is almost never."_

 _Now, Mathias just rolls his eyes, don't they have anything better to talk about, no wonder they hate the fun people, they have no idea what fun is!_

" _Alfred is such a child! And don't get me started on Mathias aru! A complete nuisance and someone who can't be serious. He would such a bad leader aru. I can't believe Lukas, Emil, Tino, and Berwald have stayed with him all this time. I wouldn't believe he was the oldest, but that's what the Nordics say. He has a responsibility, but he just wastes all his talents."_

" _Yeah, he doesn't even act like people's lives matter. It's ridiculous. It's such a waste."_

 _Mathias moves away, tripping through people._

" _Hey, found you Mathias!" Lukas finally catches up, his breath short._

" _Hey, are you okay?" Lukas asks._

" _Yeah…yeah… Just, thinking…"_

* * *

Those words stung. They were vipers attacking his heart. But, they ignited a flame, the passion to begin New Scandenavia. They were kind of right. He could change the world for the better. He'd make it perfect. No one would hurt anymore. But, they were also really wrong. If no one thought he could be serious, be strong, be a leader, he would prove it to them. Even if it took years.

He would show that he _did_ care.

That he _wasn't_ worthless.

That he _could_ protect his family.

" _Yeah, you protected them by starting a war. I bet Emil, Peter, and Berwald really feel protected. Plus, planning to let Tino be offed, you're definitely protecting them."_ An inner voice nags.

" _Enough. I accomplished something great. I put the needs of the world ahead of mine for once. Even at the cost of my family. Hah! If that's not responsible, what is? I am a leader. A great one. Now that the war is won, it's time to make the world better. It's time to stop pain. Which countries should I convince first? Start with the big political powerful ones? Or get a bunch of small ones? Hmm… Big ones would be the United States, China, and Russia. Nope. Russia is_ too _big. Ivan might beat him up. But, I still have Tino. He's scared Ivan before. What about the USA? That's some major political power. And, my connection with Alfred are great! Wang Yao….. I don't know about him. But, it would be kind of poetic. He did start this, even if it_ was _by insulting me."_

Mathias starts taking notes in his red and white notebook. The soft scratching of the pencil echoes around the silent room.

" _About the smaller countries?_ _France, Germany, Japan, and South Korea would be great starters. Francis, I have good alliances with him. Ludwig, he's next door and if all goes wrong, I'm a good friend of Gilbert. Or I could capture Felianco. Kiku, no idea about him. But If I have his two friends, he might crumble. Yong Soo is silly, childish, and immature. But some nations know that he can be serious and strong. He's like me. Plus, he has good connections with Alfred._

Mathias continues thinking, falling into a hurried brainstorm.

" _Other countries… The Baltics? No, not important enough. And too close to Ivan. I like my face the way it is now, thank you very much. The UK brothers? Yes, they all know magic to some degree. But they might hate me for Peter's death. Although, they weren't overly fond of Peter. I can blame Tino for that though. The Italian brothers? They both have good connections. And they're cowardly and weak, I can easily take over their territory. The Germanics? Well, Roderich wouldn't be very beneficial except if you want musical concerts, but how can I take his territory? Vasch is neutral, but that doesn't mean that he can't be taken over. But Lili, she's extremely small. Still, if I have her, I might be able to grab Vasch_. _I don't know how many I can convince. But, I'll try my best! I have to do this! I_ can _make the world better. Besides, they're clearly not doing a great job. Look how many die in misery every day!"_

As Mathias looks over the list of all the names and countries, a wave of nostalgia hits him. Flashes of good times spent with all his friends. Some he's had for centuries! What they didn't listen? What if he had to take them over? Gilbert, Alfred, Arthur... Could he really do this? To his friends?

" _Some did mock me behind my back though, the little traitors! Still, some of it was true… And it inspired the Revolution. But, what if they don't cooperate? What am I going to do with those after I take over?"_

Mathias decides to make another list of suggestions. Some are crazy. Others are weird. Some are practical. And some? Some are pure Mathias.

" _Should I kill some rebellious nations? It might intimidate the others, show them how powerful I am! What am I THINKING? I can't do that! No, I'll figure out something else to do with those nations_."

Mathias recollects his thoughts, then suddenly barks, "Major!"

A tall man bursts into the room, snapping a hurried salute.

"Time to go over the plans for conquest." Mathias says, pointing to the world map on the wall.

"Sir! Your orders are my command!"

"We should take out the largest countries first, then with all that power, we should be able to take out the smaller ones."

"Sir, good idea!"

Mathias sighs, sometimes, his soldiers were too loyal, and didn't think for themselves.

"You're supposed to put some input in this, not agree with everything I say." Mathias says tiredly.

"Sir! Sorry sir! I mean, I will give input next time General Mathias, I mean General Sir, sir!"

Mathias sighs, it was going to be a very long night. Extremely long.

"We need to send delegates to the nations. Then prepare ultimate take over!" Mathias thrusts his fist in the air, grinning excitedly.

"Sir! Which nations?" The Major asks.

"Hang on! Let me get my notebook!" Mathias rushes over to the other side of the room and grabs his notebook.

The Major looks at it with disbelief. "Sir, why does it have a Rainbow Dash sticker on it?"

"Uh, because I like the sticker and how do _you_ know what my little pony is and who the pony was?"

"My six year old daughter loves the show."

"Oh."

Flipping open the notebook, Mathias resumes speaking, "The countries are: China, Canada, Germany, France, Japan, South Korea, Great Britain, Romania, Belarus, and, unfortunately, Italy and Spain."

"Sir! But Russia and the USA are the two biggest political countries in the ENTIRE world! Are you going to leave them out? And why Romania and Belarus, sir? They aren't very important!" the Major asks in confusion.

"Ah, well Russia is too dangerous and deadly for a mortal man to confront, so that's why I'll be sending Tino. While he's kind of unstable at the moment, he _is_ one of the two people Ivan's scared of, so that's a plus. As for the United States, I'm going to see Alfred myself. As for Romania and Belarus, my reasons are my own. Now, go! Send the delegates. And if they have a problem with the Nations, tell them to call me. I'm sure I can win them over with my delightful charisma."

The Major snorts discretely and Mathias wonders if perhaps this ones has a little bit of spirit after all.

* * *

Tino paces around his room, his mind a frenzy of half formed thoughts and powerful emotions.

" _It's my fault! Peter's dead because of me! Shouldn't have taken my anger out on him! All because of this stupid war! It's Mathias's fault! It's Berwald's fault! It's my fault! Blood. Death. Anger. Hate. Word. Crazy. Pounding. Help. Peter. Emil. Berwald. Tino. Think. Focus. What am I thinking about? What am I doing? What's the point of this?_ "

Tino screams. Tiny wisps of anger and regret escaping.

" _Why did Mathias even start this war? It's so pointless! I'll join Berwald's side. But, Berwald's dead. No, he's not! Just because no one believes me doesn't me its wrong. Berwald's alive. I'm going to his side! No, he killed Peter, I'll stay on Mathias's side! I hate everyone! Who cares about this war anyway? I know I don't anymore! Peter's dead because of it! What does it even mean?"_

" _You caused his death,"_ a shard of truth pierces his crazy ramblings.

" _Peter, my beloved child. Why did I cause you to kill yourself! All my fault! IT'S ALL MY FAULT! It's so small. I feel trapped! I need to get out. Away!"_

Tino storms outside, knocking haphazardly into several soldiers.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, clumsy!" shouts a soldier, before identifying Tino.

"Oh! General Tino! My sincere apol-." Tino spins around, face alight with anger, eyes alight with madness.

"Why don't _you_ look where you're going? That will do us all a favor!" Tino spits out.

"Please, you're just a nation! It must be so easy, just sitting around watching humans suffer while you guys live forever and are perfectly happy! You guys are the ones that started this war! I'm not going to blindly fall in line and kiss your feet, especially when you can't stop tripping over them!" The soldier fires back angrily.

Tino's face contorts with rage, preparing to tell this stuck-up soldier exactly how useless he is, when a thought stops him.

" _Why are there personifications of countries anyway? Was it just so fate could make my life as miserable as possible? It's doing a great job!"_

"You're right," he murmurs, stalking away.

" _I wonder if I really saw Berwald. Maybe it was just my imagination. But those eyes. They felt so real. The punches did too. He's got to be still alive. I don't care how. He has to be alive. And I'm going to find him."_

Tino finds Mathias casually leaning against a trees, eyes closed.

"I'm leaving to search for Berwald. Now. Don't try to stop me." Tino says determinedly.

Then he heads for his tent to prepare.

He does not look back.

* * *

Mathias stands in shock.

" _What just happened? Tino left! To search for a ghost? He is out of it! Still, maybe it'll give him time to accept reality. But, who's going to talk to Russia! This is bad!"_

Later, as Mathias is desperately trying to find someone-anyone-to talk to Russia, Lukas approaches him, face blank.

"I'm leaving. I need a short break." He say, voice a level monotone. Then, he simply walks away.

" _Is this déjà vu? I'm kind of freaking out! But, they'll be back soon. Lukas is nearly as passionate as me about the Revolution-until he killed Emil… Well, at least I won't really need anything other than their names when I start the diplomatic part of the Revolution. They'll come back before we start establishing the system."_ Despite his reassuring thoughts, Mathias couldn't help but feel the family just got even worse. Then, another realization struck him.

"Dude, I'm like the only Nordic left now!"


	9. Same Struggles, Seperate Journeys

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and, sadly, a whole lot of other things.

* * *

For once, no icy winds attack Lukas' form as he walks smoothly down a worn trail. The grass is vivid green and wild, mockingly tangling in his boots. The sky is a periwinkle blue - a nice ice cream color - with sprinkles of floating cloud tufts. Birds fill the air with joyful chirping and the crickets chime in on the percussion. Scowling, Lukas feels the scene only needs dancing magical animals. Not feeling at all cheered by the weather, he lets out a short puff of breath. A tired sigh follows shortly.

Stretching a little to ease his muscles, he reaches a ravine and climbs down carefully, arriving at a careworn door with ivy curling at its hinges. Lukas reaches up, slowly knocking on the small, engraved wooden door. A loud clamor disrupts his inspection of the intricate-maybe magical-carvings. Curious, he tilts his ear closer, hearing a rushed, "go, go, go!"

Letting out a small cough, Lukas knocks again.

"Nova? It's Lukas. Are you home?"

The door creaks open and a cheerful face peaks out.

"Ah, welcome back, Lukas!" Lukas raises an eyebrow questioningly at the man.

"Were you talking to someone?" His expression turning grim and wary, while his thoughts run.

' _Twist carefully to the right. Be prepared for anything. The war left a lot of enemies, Lukas.'_

Nova lets out a fond chuckle, but it sounds slightly strained. "Just the leaves, my boy! You young people don't appreciate the art of leaf racing. In my day, there was no television or kart racing or computers. No, we had to get by on the small things. Twig boats and leaf racing, my two personal favorites. Why, I've won quite a few pretty pennies on leaf racing. In fact…"

Lukas relaxes, snorting softly. "Nova, remember? Nations are older."

"And that's exactly what I mean! Age doesn't always mean wisdom. Even the wisest can have clouded minds, do rash things, act before thinking, let emotions overcome them...it all has painful, sometimes fatal consequences."

"I didn't come to speak of the war." Lukas requests, expression full of pain.

' _Emil…slain by my own hands. His blood is my burden. Berwald…my brother and father all in one. And, Peter, the youngest…gone, taking Tino with him. How did it come to this madness?'_

Nova nods quickly and solemnly. "I hear those fairies are quite the handful, how do you tolerate them?" Nova asks smirking, in an obvious subject change, getting a laugh and appreciative smile out of the Norwegian man.

Lukas' mouth opens to reply, but a small clatter emerges from the kitchen. Lukas tenses, eyes scanning the floor. Nova snickers, drawing Lukas' gaze back to him, just missing the tablecloth's slight rustle.

"Hah! As you can plainly see, I'm being quite the hypocrite. The fairies have been playing quite a few pranks on me lately. Misplaced books, clothes changing color, it's infuriating. But, I'll have my revenge!" Nova's face dances with expressive emotions, a little more so than usual.

"Misplacing things is just called getting old, Nova. And pranking fairies? You're just asking for things to fall around here. Those pests are crazy. Hey, I found whatever fell, it's just this." Lukas states, smiling fondly, as he bends down, carefully picking up a small wooden necklace.

"Whoa, this is quite fine crafting. See, the fairies heard you, this is their, 'Bring it, old man.' Now, they're targeting more important objects. I haven't seen detail like this in quite a long time. Look at those wings, it looks a lot like a falcon." Lukas casually extends his arm towards Nova, before pausing briefly. Rolling it around in his palm, Lukas furrows his eyebrows.

"Magic? Wow, this is definitely important. Those fairies are serious. What does this do, if I may ask?"

Nova giggles, causing Lukas' eyes to jerk away from the necklace to give him an incredulous stare. "Are you okay? You don't have to answer, you know. It was just a question."

"I know, good friend, it was just so typical of you to ask that. It caused a bit of nostalgia, I haven't seen you in quite some time, you know."

Lukas smiles sheepishly, as Nova's voice becomes chiding, but his response dies on his lips as Nova continues.

"Hardly anything, I'm afraid-though I have felt luckier with it. It's been around magic once, I think for a long time. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the aura of magical remnants is embedded in it. Oh! This reminds me of the time when I was a young adventurer-I got into many bold expeditions back then, you know-and there was this one-"

Sensing an impeding novel, Lukas shifts uncomfortably before hearing the whistle of a kettle.

"The tea is ready I believe. Umm…may I come in now?"

"Ah! Of course, I'm sorry! I completely forgot, yes, please come in."

Lukas follows Nova inside, then sits at the kitchen table, before his knee bumps something uncomfortably hard-the table leg?-and he awkwardly moves the chair out, wincing at the inevitable scraping noise.

Nova-an oddly frantic jerk to his normally slow, elegant movements-opens the window and a soft breeze blows the long table cloth.

"Finally, a breeze! I'm so hot in here and it will go well with the tea."

"I suppose so. What type are we having today?" Lukas asks, while stretching his legs slightly and reaching for the kettle, pouring a steady stream of a dark green, watery liquid into his cup. A warm, fruity aroma curls into his nose.

He suddenly stops pouring when he heard a faint noise. He set the kettle back down and turns.

* * *

"I can't believe no one will believe me. It's just like Mathias, can't stop reveling in his victory to see that Berwald! Is! Alive! What a baka! It'll serve him right when Berwald comes back and messes up his Revolution!" Tino huffs, hot breath temporarily forming a warm air bubble, before succumbing to the cold.

"I mean, I'm telling the truth! He'll see though. I'm glad it hasn't snowed, maybe Berwald left signs when he dragged his miserable, traitorous body out of the avalanche." Tino mutters, pulling his jacket closer, as he begins climbing up the mountain with quick strides. Scanning the white terrain, he searches for any clues that Berwald might have left. It is oddly peaceful as he climbs, but the calm atmosphere breaks with the pained cry of an animal. Tino runs towards it, hearing only the pain in the sound, memories of the war come flooding back.

* * *

" _Hah! Tony, we're winning! For the Revolution!" A soldier grins lopsidedly, knocking down Berwald's men like bowling pins._

" _Nice one, Emily! Maybe I'll even get back to Amy in time for supper." A man smiles back, pausing to corner more opponents._

" _Thanks, this battle could win the war! But I'll get back home before you will, one of Berwie's guys nearly got you there, old man, sure it's not time to retire? You're slowing down, better start watching the master!"_

" _The master? At what? Getting rescued by me?"_

 _The two soldiers are separated from the main battle, their individual skirmishes – now completed – having drawn them away. Both are rushing back to aid their allies, no doubt in their postures as they run back into danger, playful bantering disguising their fears._

 _They figures are small. Two dots running to join a coiling, bleeding mass. Then, in the blink of an eye, two becomes one._

" _Tony! No! What was it?"_

" _Arrow." The man grunts, pulling a bloody shaft from his chest, dangerously near the heart. "I'm not going to make it. Another got me, it's tearing a lung. Guess you were right about Berwie's guys."_

" _No! Herbert can fix this. Or maybe Shelly? Remember, good ol' Florence Nightingale…"_

"… _The Miracle Bird. Yeah, but I'm serious. Guess you will," he coughs an ugly blob of red blood and spittle before continuing, "make it home before me. Say 'Hi'' your parents for me."_

" _NO! I didn't mean it! What about your kid? Amy will choose all the names you hate! What can I do? I can do_ something! _"_

 _The words are rushed, choked, filled with despair and mingled with bitter tears._

" _Just win the war. Make a better future. That's why I'm here...for them."_

 _The body stills. Another rises from hovering and joins the battle, steps filled not with vengeance, but sadness and determination. A better future would come, or else!_

 _Tino watches, pausing and hidden._

 _The scene happened in just five minutes, war was quick like that - death even more so – but it played in slow motion. Every detail slowing to an agonizing pace, every word captured. Sometimes the faces or scenery blurred, the words got forgotten. Tino always tries to remember it again, always grows terrified when it blurs. He will not forget. He will not dishonor them like that._

* * *

Suddenly, he stumbles over a crevice in the ice, leg twisting sideways, body propelling into a wall of ice.

Pain.

Darkness.

Tino shakes his head, slowly getting up – what was that noise? Following the cry, Tino sees a speckled bundle of fur. It's a small goat. Rushing towards it, Tino realizes the specks are matted fur clumped with dried blood. Shivering in revulsion, he wraps a cloth around the wound.

"I'm going to take you home, little one. What will I name you? No, I know! I'll let Peter name you! He's going to be so happy! Top that, Berwald! Peter will love you. It'll be an early present." Picking it up, he begins walking, but suddenly wonders where he's going.

"That's odd." Tino's voice sounds small among the mountain range, barely even echoing.

' _What am I doing? Is this one of Mathias' incompetent pranks? He really needs to get over it, world domination is_ not _a good idea, the sore loser. He probably just wants to make rules that'll help him escape punishment. Well, best continue, maybe he has a party at the end.'_ Shaking his head in exasperation and amusement – Mathias could be immature, but he threw great parties – Tino's pace slows and he inhales a deep breath. Then, frowns slightly, cocking his ear and concentrating.

 _A rustle of cloth._

 _A crunch of boots on snow._

 _The smooth glide of fingers on metal._

That was the only warning. He was one of the lucky ones.

Dark cloth leaps down from above and a fist comes hurtling at his face.

Tino ducks.

' _Whoa! How did I react that quickly?!'_

"Give up your money now and you'll escape alive!" A sneer spreads on one bandit's grimy face.

' _What are robbers doing out here?! It's the middle of a mountain!'_ Sensing his hesitation, another blow comes from a burlier figure on his right. Adrenaline kicks in quickly and – with instincts he has no idea how he got – he dodges swiftly, twisting to the side.

' _This will be easy_.' His thought is interrupted by a forceful hit to the stomach.

' _Never mind.'_

The blow knocks his slight frame backwards, but he regains his composure and tenses, planning for the next attack.

"This is hardly fair. Hmm, five against one? I see how you're going to play." Tino says nonchalantly, before striking his arm out, quickly landing a hit on the burly guy.

* * *

" _Mama! Help me defeat the evil Viking king!" Peter ran up to him._

 _Glancing up with a bemused smile crowning his face, Tino raised his head. Berwald chased Peter around the room, yelling funny threats in an exaggerated accent and panting dramatically for breath every five seconds. He was even wearing a crudely cut cardboard Viking helmet. Tino's laughter bubbled heartily out, as he picked up a nearby pillow._

" _We'll team up and defeat him together! Vikings will not defeat us!" Tino said, puffing out his chest exaggeratedly, and grinning even more when Peter laughed. Suddenly, Berwald was assaulted with pillows and tackled. Laughter – pure, real laughter - vibrated through the small house and everything was perfect._

* * *

Tino clenches his teeth, while drawing his sword.

' _Why that memory? Maybe Peter wants to play Vikings with me? Is that why Mathias wants me? Did Peter drag him into this?'_

Roughly shaking his head – stay in the fight – Tino twists and whirls, blocking the incoming attacks. Something's changed about his fighting. It's sharper, more precise. His movements are no longer splattered with wasted movements that made Lukas' typically blank face shift into a pained grimace. A flash of khaki speeds towards his face catching his chin in a painful blow and sending him staggering to the ground where he's met with pounding kicks and jeers.

Blood filling his mouth, he swiftly twists away, sweeping his rifle to knock them off balance. Now, a flurry of blurring kicks and punches. He finally subdues two of them and begins tying up the third.

"Tsk, tsk, how disappointing… Do I really look like the old, wheel-chaired grannies you obviously target normally? I mean, how else are you guys _that_ bad? Want me to teach you how to punch?"

"You mean how you _taught_ Berwald? Yeah, no thanks, I don't feel like dying and getting buried by an avalanche!" The third man raises his bloody head, mouth fixed in a terrible grin.

"What do you mean?" Tino asks, confusion overtaking his voice. _'Was this man crazy?'_

"I would never do that to Berwald!" He yells, irrational anger burning his veins.

"Right, and I suppose now you're going to deny driving Peter to suicide. Take some responsibility!'

"Peter...suicide…I didn't…I wouldn't… What do you mean?" Tino staggers back, head pounding.

"Why don't you figure it out yourself?" The man grins slyly. The grin is sharp, edges whetted by knowledge – too much knowledge.

Tino's head begins to burn, images flash through his eyes.

 _Pounding fists…_

 _Crushing snow…_

 _Bleeding throat…_

He remembers. A horrible scream invades the mountains. He doesn't want to remember.

Finally, he looks up for the mysterious man. The mountainside is clean. Devoid of signs of struggle and devoid of signs of the three men.

A small bleat brings his eyes to the goat. It's fairly happy, as if a fight never occurred.

' _Who were those men?'_

* * *

Florescent light momentarily blinds Mathias' eye as he makes his way into the lobby. Spying a chair, he sits, then grimaces at the stiff cushion.

' _I'm far too used to living in a camp. It was surprisingly pleasant. Everything here is…nice, but it feels distant. Just like me… No! I can't think like that. I haven't come this far - sacrificed so many - to back out in cowardice now because of a little discomfort!'_

Straightening out his ruffled uniform, Mathias stands up as an employee enters.

"Dude, Alfred says it's cool to come in now."

Mathias grins at the bright Hawaii print of the employee's shirt. The man is tall and thin, face bearing an impressive, meticulously groomed goatee. His posture stiff and proper, he looks distinctly out of place and the words had tumbled out his mouth tinged with hesitance and distaste.

"Thank you, Mr.?" Mathias pauses, waiting for a name.

"Yo, man, I'm Reginald Archaeon Woodworth the Third."

Mathias coughs a snicker out and immediately dubs the man 'Reggie.' Reggie had experienced an amusing facial change as the original distain after saying something so low born as 'Yo, man,' melted into pride at introducing himself and his face gained a slightly arrogant tilt.

"A pleasure to meet you, Reggie."

"Reggie?" The man's mouth begins twitching downwards again. Mathias discreetly snicker-coughs again, before feigning an expression of surprise.

"Oh, I do apologize, sir! That's what Alfred told me to call you, see? He said you had quite the resume."

"Mister Alfred…of course…" Reggie's face fleetingly gains a savage look as he discovers his target. Mathias makes a mental note to tell Alfred to check his soda until…possibly forever.

"I'm afraid I must confess something, dear Reginald. You see, I asked Alfred – he's such a dear friend, you know – and he showed me your credentials. They're extremely impressive. You must be very proud. Such accomplishments!" Mathias says with an overly enthusiastic grin.

"I'm extremely happy that _some_ people understand and appreciate my talents." Reggie's face lights up and a shrewd look enters his eyes as he assesses Mathias.

"On the contrary my fine sir, I can't believe anyone _wouldn't_!"

"I can think of a few people." Reggie says dryly, before glancing at his watch and gasping. "My apologies sir – I mean – dude, sorry for ruining your meeting!"

"No worries, it was nice to meet you." Mathias' smiles brightly, waving a farewell, before entering Alfred's office.

* * *

Walking into the room, silently chuckling at the random and sloppily hung artwork, he grins at Alfred.

"Yo, Alfie! Long time, no see!" Mathias extends his hand upwards and Alfred's meets his in a high five. The cheerful slapping sound rings through the room.

"Mathias! What's up? I heard you need something?" Alfred asks, smiling joyfully at the easy, gracefully relaxed Danish nation.

"What's up with me? Hah! What's up with you?! That thing with your employees is _killer!_ Are all of them like that?" Mathias laughs, skillfully ignoring the last query. Small talk is often first for a reason.

" _Dude,_ you like that? I thought it was pretty hilarious too. Most of them are cool with it 'cause they're used to me, ya know? But, Reggie's new! Normally, I don't hire _his type._

"The snooties and you never did get along well."

"Hey, they don't appreciate me. Anyways, I interviewed ol' Reginald Achearon Woodworth and got _this_ beautiful idea."

"Hah, well you better watch your Coke from now on, I told him that _you_ told me to call him Reggie."

"Thanks a lot! Anything else? Only one hardly seems like you."

"You know it, bro. He'll probably be handing in his resignation to you and his application to me in, say, twenty minutes. Tops."

"Ooh, nice one! Okay, this is a meeting. What do you want to 'meet' about, dude?"

"Updates, I guess. Well, we'd better sit down, this'll be a while." Mathias' grimaces, before quirking his lips into a smirk and adding, "But not longer than twenty minutes."

"Ouch."

"Listen, I know you and I are the jokers. We have fun and we're good at it. But, don't _hate_ it when people think that being fun and funny means being stupid!"

"I mean, yeah, but, what brought this one?"

"It's been there for a while, you know, but then, someone said that we didn't care about people's lives! That we would risk them in favor of entertainment!"

"What!" Alfred stood, looking uncharacteristically angry. People and countries depended on each other in the end. Sure, some countries weren't overly involved with their people, but implying that they wouldn't care if humans died! That was too far.

"I know, but…I was thinking…and, well, they have a point!"

"Mathias, don't listen to those arrogant, jealous, lame…"

"Alfred, stop." The command was quiet, but it was powerful. Mathias' typical easy charm morphs into a dark charisma with a dangerous edge. He continues, voice softer, smoother, and more articulate.

"They're right. Look at us! We're literally personified counties! Maybe we don't show it, but we're powerful. Strength flows through our veins and we've lived for centuries! Every one of us has so much knowledge, so many talents, and a crazy amount of opportunities. We've seen what works and what doesn't. We know the problems in this world - in us - and…We. Can. Fix. Them. We can show we do care. We can stop the pain and suffering. You've heard the cries, Alfie. I know you have. All of have, no matter how we act in the mornings, they creep into our nightmares. We can solve problems and show people how to have fun along the way too, obviously." The last sentence changes and the easy charm once again takes over. Alfred sits quietly, face uncharacteristically blank and pensive, before uttering one word.

"Davie."

Mathias nods in silent understanding, then whispers, "His family – his legacy – will inherit the perfect world. We can fix this. I'm going to fix this, no matter what! You're not the only one who…you know."

"I'm in. How are we going to do this?"

Mathias scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

"Well, I've kinda already started…"

* * *

Breath slowing in anticipation, Lukas cautiously leans towards the table, then swiftly lifts the tablecloth. That moment, icy purple eyes meet teal blue.


End file.
